Touching Solitude
by catharticone
Summary: Edward moves to a remote homestead in Oregon, seeking isolation to recover from a traumatic event. However, a chance meeting with his lovely yet melancholy neighbor sparks concern for her. Can these two broken individuals help each other to heal? AU.
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer:_**_ Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer; no infringement is intended.

_**Author's Note:**_ This is an AU story, a first for me.

I wish to send special thanks to Marrabelle for her unwavering support and encouragement.

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><p>The landscape rushed past me. To my fellow passengers, the images were merely a blur of greens and browns. To my acute senses, however, each tree, plant, and flower was clearly visible. I choose not to look. Leaning my head back against the seat, I closed my eyes, seeking a few moments without visual stimulation. My mind, still tender, craved isolation.<p>

Seclusion was not possible here, on this train, where I was surrounded by humans and the morass of sounds and smells they constantly emitted. But in the temporary darkness behind my lowered lids, I found a respite from complete sensory overload. Remembering Carlisle's words, I tried to act upon them:

_Take deep, slow breaths son; focus only on your breathing. Count each inhalation and exhalation, and keep your thoughts on nothing else…_

Of course, when he had told me that, his steady, loving hands had anchored me. He had held me in his arms, one hand pressed against my chest and the other upon my cheek, his thumbs rubbing small, firm circles over my skin. He had shielded me from the onslaught, somehow keeping me from breaking apart completely, shattering into a million irreconcilable pieces…

The memories of that day, and those leading irrevocably up to it, did not help me to obtain the calm I sought, so I pushed them from my mind. I concentrated only upon breathing—that once instinctual act which now required a conscious effort. Once I began and established a rhythm, it usually came with ease, but during that terrible time, I had forgotten to maintain the ruse more than once. It was the first sign that something was wrong, but neither Carlisle nor I had realized it until it was nearly too late.

Inhale, exhale; inhale, exhale… For the moment, there was nothing more: Nothing to see, to hear, to smell, or to _feel_. It was nearly impossible for my thoughts to remain static for long, though, so I permitted myself to envision my destination. Painting a vivid picture in my mind kept the other stimuli out. I saw the small, clapboard house nestled in the clearing. Above it I could view the sky: sometimes clear, often cloudy, or dark and glittering with stars. Past the treeline, I would see land stretching and rolling, open and wild and completely uninhabited. My nearest neighbors would be miles away, and the closest town would be an hour's ride. There was little chance I would encounter any humans unless I sought them out—which I had absolutely no intention of doing.

The only challenge now was to get there with my sanity, such as it was, intact. My fellow passengers had not made this goal easy during the first few hours of the trip. They were naturally drawn to me, a fact that had served me well in my short-lived professional endeavors. Most of my patients had trusted me immediately, willingly accepting my diagnoses and treatment plans. And when I used my gift, they interpreted my pain as unbridled compassion, and this endeared me to them further. Those first few months working alongside Carlisle had been deeply rewarding, which made the suffering bearable. But in time, it had become too much, and it had very nearly broken me.

I managed to rebuff the other passengers' smiles and polite gestures by shoving my hat down further over my untamable hair and pretending to sleep. Still, I knew they were looking at me, thinking about me, and those traveling alone likely considered taking the empty seat facing me. Fortunately no one acted upon those whims, providing me with a very small measure of physical solitude. For now, it was enough.

"Sir." A male voice interrupted my mental reprieve.

Begrudgingly, I opened my eyes to look up at the conductor. He was a stout man in his middle fifties. His bearing, gait, and the pattern of calluses on his hands instantly told me that he had worked on trains for much of his life.

"Yes?" I replied politely.

"May I see your baggage receipt, please?"

I knew that he would pass it to one of the porters, who were currently sorting the cases and trunks in preparation for our next stop. I pulled the ticket from my jacket pocket and handed it to him. I was not careful enough, though, and for a moment his fingertips brushed mine.

Pain…a twinge in the foot… no, the large toe… It was not unbearable, but it was uncomfortable. Immediately I recognized the problem as I moved my own toe within my boot. His body was working toward a full-blown attack of gout.

The conductor took the receipt and smiled pleasantly at me, but I could see the slight shift in his expression as he began to walk away. The motion hurt him.

"Wait," I said, reaching out to touch his arm, careful to come into contact only with his sleeve.

"Yes sir?" he inquired.

"Try to find some strawberries or cherries when we stop in Boise," I suggested quietly.

"Pardon me?" My words clearly confused him.

"For your foot," I clarified softly. "It will help."

He still appeared quizzical. "Are you a doctor, sir?"

"No," I lied, "but my father is. Trust me on this."

Again my innate charm and attractiveness quickly convinced him, and he gave me a nod of thanks before hobbling away.

I had always disliked prevarication, although it was often an integral part of my existence. When it served a distinct and positive purpose, I bristled less and sometimes even chuckled at a particularly clever tale that Carlisle or I created extemporaneously. However, the dishonesty that necessarily surrounded my father's and my lives was sometimes wearing.

Hiding my gift was more a lie of omission than an outright untruth, but even so, even early on, it had grated on me. I understood the value of the pretense, of course, but keeping it hidden had, at times, proven difficult and emotionally exhausting. That, compounded with the effects of using it, had ultimately led me here.

I closed my eyes again and counted my breaths until the train stopped in Boise. There, I sent a telegram to Carlisle to assure him that I had made the longest part of the journey successfully. He had wanted desperately to accompany me, but I had discouraged him on several counts. The guilt he felt over my condition was difficult for me to handle. No matter how placid he kept his expression, compunction simmered in his eyes, gnawing at me incessantly. I needed to be away from that, away from the memories that caused him such pain—the images of me quavering in the dark room, moaning incomprehensibly and wringing my hands relentlessly until I fractured three of my own fingers…

Then there was Esme. She was doing well in adjusting to her new lifestyle, but she was not ready to be alone for several weeks. She and Carlisle insisted that she would be fine, but I refused to hear it. My breakdown had been difficult for her, too, and she needed her husband's solace almost as much as he needed hers.

In the end, we had agreed that I would wire Carlisle from each stop so that he and Esme would know that I was all right. In retrospect, I would not say that this had proven an easy task, but it had been necessary. After I had felt a heart defect in the first telegraph operator, I had fastidiously avoided even the briefest physical contact with the others. Aside from the conductor, I had not touched anyone during the latter part of the trip. While many humans were healthy and suffered no particular afflictions, I did not wish to risk the anguish I might find if someone were injured or ill. And even those in good health often felt hungry or had full bladders, neither of which were particularly pleasant sensations for me. I worried that even these mundane discomforts would affect me. I knew I was not fully recovered; I could not endure the thought of a relapse.

After sending the telegraph, I returned to reboard the train. I waited as a slender woman began to climb up the steps into the car. She carried a large satchel in one hand and a smaller bag brimming with books in the other. Like most well-bred ladies, her hair was pinned up beneath a small straw hat. However, a few sable tendrils had come loose, falling softly down her back. Against the cornflower blue of her cotton dress, the strands were stunning.

Suddenly I found her toppling backwards with a small, surprised cry. A split-second glance down showed that her foot had caught on the stair, her ankle twisting as she fell. In an instant I had steadied her with one hand at her waist and the other upon her arm.

"Oh!" she gasped, dropping the satchel as she reached for my hand reflexively. "I'm sorry."

"Are you all right?" I asked automatically, barely aware that her warm, delicate palm was now resting in my cool hand.

A blush spread over her fair cheeks, and she ducked her head. "Yes. Thank you."

"Are you certain?" I prodded gently. From the angle at which her foot had caught, it seemed likely that she had sprained her ankle.

She nodded, her cheeks even rosier now. I let my gaze flick down to the small hand I now held. I could feel the warmth and softness of her skin, the blood pulsing in the tiny veins beneath my fingers. But I felt no pain. She was not injured.

I lifted her satchel and waited until she had climbed the steps before handing it to her. I wondered if she would be seated in my car but then dashed the thought from my mind. Her scent, floral with a hint of honey, lingered. I walked the length of the train, breathing in the clean air before returning to the car.

Once inside, I allowed myself to glance at the other seats. The young woman was nowhere in sight; she must have selected another car. I returned to my seat and closed my eyes again, ready for the long trip to end so that the countless days of blissful solitude could begin.

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><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	2. Chapter 2

Esme insisted on sending furnishings for my new home. For my part, there was little I desired. I had brought two trunks full of books; a handful of personal items such as photographs and my violin; the meager amount of clothing I would require; and my medical bag. I had debated leaving the latter item in St. Paul, knowing I would never be able to practice again, but something in me had refused to part with the cherished leather case. Carlisle had been so proud when he presented it to me; it remained a sentimental item. I stowed it on the highest shelf of the armoir, behind the blankets and pillows I would never use.

Even in my rural retreat, I needed to keep up the human ruse. There was always a possibility that someone would wander by, and friendliness was expected among the homesteaders. So I did not offer any protests when Esme told me that she would order basic furniture and household items for me. They were delivered in a large wagon driven by three burly men who had picked up the shipment in Portland and made the five-hour trip to my isolated property two weeks after I arrived. They brought letters from Carlisle and Esme, too, and agreed to take the missives I had written back to Portland to post for me.

I had to wait impatiently and uncomfortably while they unloaded my new belongings, knowing that I could have each and every item inside in a fraction of the time and with a tenth of the effort that they required.

My discomfiture swelled when the men finished and I paid them. Each wanted to shake my hand; apparently the recompense I offered was on the generous side. I had no choice but to clasp each man's callused hand briefly. I winced at the ache in the oldest fellow's lower back. Fortunately the other two, both barely out of their teens, were heartier and experienced no significant bodily malfunctions.

Aside from their visit, I obtained my goal of a solitary existence. My small house was cozy, thanks to the settee, two leather armchairs, armoir, and side tables that Esme sent. I built shelves using the readily available alderwood. I derived some pleasure from working with the lumber, sanding and smoothing it, then languidly carving intricate patterns along the edges. It was a small joy to feel the inanimate material beneath my hands, malleable to my touch yet incapable of igniting sensations within me.

I did not keep track of the time. I had no need to do so. I was alone, blissfully isolated from human contact and relishing the peace, the quiet, the lack of feeling. Wildlife was plentiful, so when I forced myself to feed I was able to find suitable game near my home.

For weeks I busied myself with the shelves, then with arranging and rearranging my books and reading through them several times. I played my violin, too, attempting to compose new pieces, but I unable to tap into my dormant creativity. It had left me during that terrible time, gradually slipping away as the turmoil and torment grew within me. I hoped I would find it again someday, but I had my doubts. I felt that I would never be the same again. The shards of my senses did not fit together anymore. Maybe there was a piece missing…

Carlisle's beliefs were entirely different. Perhaps it was his innate optimism, or maybe it stemmed from two centuries lived as a physician and healer, but he assured me that I would regain my equilibrium eventually. He sincerely believed that one day I would be able to return to society, to be with others without experiencing the mental chaos and pain that had driven me to eschew human contact. Perhaps he was being a touch selfish, too; he hoped that I would return to him and Esme someday. Of course my full recovery would assuage some of the guilt he felt, but I could not begrudge him his wishes for me.

At heart, his sole motivation was love.

In all honesty, I think his paternal devotion was the only thread that remained to pull me from the abyss on that terrible day when I finally shattered. In retrospect, I wondered if it had been inevitable, or if, in different circumstances, I might have avoided it.

The course my life took was not once I had anticipated. I was the only child of Edward and Elizabeth Masen of Wilmette, Illinois. My father was an attorney who had achieved moderate success, allowing me to enroll in college to pursue my dream of becoming a physician. While my father had hoped I would follow in his professional footsteps, he reluctantly supported my aspirations. My mother was proud of me, offering me her encouragement in my academic endeavors.

Between studying and classes, I spent several hours most days at the free clinic, learning to put my theoretical knowledge to use. I had always possessed a vivid imagination, and this served me well in identifying and diagnosing ailments. I found that, as I spoke with patients and they described their symptoms, I could almost feel them within my own body. My professors complimented my diagnostic skills, telling me that I was among the best students with whom they had worked.

I was twenty-two years old and in the final year of my medical studies at Northwestern University when I first met Carlisle. While many of my human memories had faded, I could still recall our first encounter. It was December of 1898. The campus was abuzz with the latest news: The Treaty of Paris had just ended the Spanish American War.

On the final day of classes, a guest lecturer arrived to speak with the students about the latest antiseptic surgical methods. The topic already interested me, but when the speaker stepped up to the podium, I was enthralled. I am certain there was not one student or professor in the room who was not stuck by his physical beauty, but once he began to speak his quiet voice and warm yet professional manner captivated me. He was brilliant, yet he imparted the information at a level appropriate for students.

I had previously undertaken some independent study on the topic of germ theory, and Dr. Cullen's lecture left some of my questions unanswered. As the students filed out of the room, I lingered, waiting until he had shaken hands with my professor and begun walking toward the door.

"Dr. Cullen?" I asked hesitantly, suddenly shy about my queries.

He turned his amber eyes to me, his gaze intense. "Yes?"

"I was wondering… hoping, that is… that you might be able to provide some clarification of a few points…"

He smiled and nodded. "Of course, Mister…?"

"Masen," I provided.

"Mr. Masen. Please," he gestured toward the nearest row of seats.

I sat, and he seated himself beside to me, moving with innate grace. We spoke for perhaps fifteen minutes, then he stood and shook my hand. His touch was cold, but his words were warm.

"Best of luck in your career," he said. "You will make a fine physician. I hope we shall meet again some day."

I would never have guessed that 'some day' would occur less than a week later. The winter was brutal, and respiratory illnesses ran rampant throughout the Chicago area. When I returned home from school, I found my father suffering from what I diagnosed as a bad cold. Soon my mother was feverish and coughing, too. In the exuberance of youth and arrogance of the knowledge I had acquired during medical school, I attempted to treat them with poultices and hot tea. Yet shortly it became apparent that both were suffering from something more serious than the common cold. When my own chest began to feel heavy and my cheeks flushed with the start of fever, I shrugged off the symptoms as the effects of exhaustion.

I took both of my parents to the hospital three days after I got home. By then I was fairly certain that they had contracted the serious form of pneumonia rampaging through Chicago, but I needed to be sure. We waited behind a curtain for the physician on duty. The moment I saw the pale hand grasp the fabric, I knew who would treat them, and relief surged through me.

"Dr. Cullen!" I blurted. "I don't know if you remember me, but we met—"

"Six days ago," he finished with a kind smile. "Mr. Masen, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's Edward. My parents are ill with respiratory symptoms," I said.

He nodded, taking a few minutes to greet both my mother and father and ask about their conditions. He began with my mother, feeling her forehead and cheeks and along her neck with his gentle, cold fingers. I watched his face carefully. His expression remained pleasant and affable, but I could sense something beneath the surface. He removed a stethoscope from his pocket and listened to my mother's chest. He offered her a reassuring smile then moved on to my father.

"Well," he said when he had finished, "I'm afraid that we shall need to admit both of you for pneumonia, but with proper rest and treatment, I think you will feel more comfortable soon."

A nurse arrived to escort both of my parents to beds. The hospital was bustling with many other patients similarly afflicted, so my mother and father would be placed on the ward. I turned to follow the nurse, but Dr. Cullen stopped me with a light hand upon my arm.

"Edward," he said softly, "you're ill, too." He pressed his cool palm to my brow then rested the back of his hand on my cheek.

"No, it's just a cold," I protested, unwilling to accept a serious diagnosis and knowing what the prognosis was. My legs felt weak, though, and I began to waver.

He smiled sympathetically and eased me down into a chair. His gentle fingers probed beneath my jaws, then he listened to my lungs. My anxiety surged when again I saw a hint of distress flicker across his perfect features.

"It would be best to admit you, as well," he said, placing his hand upon my shoulder.

"No, Dr. Cullen," I retorted weakly, "I'll be all right…"

Ah, the misplaced optimism of youth. My condition worsened, as did my parents'. My father died on December 19 and my mother on December 22. Dr. Cullen attended us valiantly, appearing at all hours of the day and night to try to make us more comfortable, even when it became apparent that none of us would survive.

I recall little of my last day as a human. I remember bits and pieces of sensation: the deep pain in my chest, the nearly unbearable ache of my limbs, the heat of fever. At some point I slipped into blissful unconsciousness, and when I woke next I thought my fever had raged out of control. I felt as though I were burning, and later I found out that, in a way, I was.

Carlisle's venom seared through my veins, changing my weak, fallible body to an immutable, impermeable one. When I awoke to my new existence, he explained what he had done and what I had become. From the first time we had spoken, he had felt a connection to me, something which he rarely allowed himself to do. When he realized that my life would end within hours, he made an uncharacteristically spontaneous decision and changed me. He became my father, and I his son.

It was some time before we discovered my gift. As a vampire, Carlisle rarely experienced pain. The closest he came was feeling the burning of his thirst, but over the centuries he had gained exquisite control of his urges, so it was rare that he felt more than a mild throb of hunger. However, one morning he returned from the hospital after assisting for countless hours in the aftermath of a train wreck. He had treated victim after victim, suturing gaping wounds, setting bones, and performing emergency surgery. There had been blood everywhere, and he had nearly become overwhelmed.

When he finally left the hospital, thirst singed his throat. He knew from experience that it would subside eventually; some time away from the alluring scent would mitigate the hunger. However, when he arrived at the home we shared, he was still uncomfortable, still struggling with the unsated flames.

The moment he walked in the door, I knew what was wrong; I could read it upon his face. I strode toward him, taking his hands in mine in an attempt to offer him some comfort. Instead, I gasped in pain as my throat burned. I stumbled back.

Startled by my reaction, Carlisle searched himself for traces of blood. He had changed his clothes and washed his body, but he believed something must have remained to cause my reaction. When he found nothing, he placed his hands upon my cheeks and made me meet his gaze.

"Edward! What is it?" he asked.

The pain flared again at his touch. "My throat…" I stammered. "I feel as though it's on fire… almost as badly as when I first woke."

Carlisle dropped his hands, and the burning ebbed. Within moments, it was gone. As Carlisle's own thirst diminished, his touch brought no further torture to me. We both forgot about the incident.

Several months later, he was, yet again, answering my queries about our unique physiology. I had asked him thousands of questions, but I always seemed to think of more. He had told me more than once that it was difficult to damage our bodies, but if we ever did, the injury would repair itself quickly. I wanted specifics about this. My academic background left me more curious, I suppose, than the average vampire.

Carlisle was an extremely patient man, but I think I had pushed him nearly to the end of his limit. Rather than attempt to explain cellular regeneration to me again, he pushed up his sleeve and, with a slightly mischievous grin, lifted his arm and scraped his teeth across the smooth, white flesh over his bicep. He showed me the tear he had made.

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "You didn't need to do that!" Automatically I placed my hand upon his wrist, but a flicker of pain in my arm made me jerk back.

"Son? What's the matter?"

I touched my bicep. "I felt a twinge of pain."

He quickly slid up my sleeve to inspect my unmarred arm. "There's nothing here," he reported.

"No…"

His mind began working very quickly then. His curious, intent expression told me that he was planning another experiment.

"Close your eyes," he instructed.

I complied then waited a few moments until he took my hand. I flinched as stinging pain throbbed through my arm.

"Oh!" I cried. "What on earth…"

"Keep your eyes closed," Carlisle said, "and tell me what you feel."

"It stings very badly… same place it hurt before."

I opened my eyes to see silvery venom in the gash on Carlisle's arm. He pulled away, breaking the contact, and quickly sucked the irritating substance from the injury. I watched silently as his wound began to close. When his skin was unmarked again, I dared to speak.

"What happened?" I asked, thoroughly perplexed and rather distressed. "Why did I feel that?"

His voice was calm and soothing as he explained, "I believe it's a manifestation of a unique gift, son. Some among us possess special abilities, often enhancements of traits they had when they were human." He seemed to think for a few moments. "I recall one of your professors telling me that you had superb diagnostic skills. Can you remember anything about that?"

I was not sure how this was related to the odd occurrence, but I attempted to tell him what I was able to recall. "I would listen to patients tell me what hurt, or how they felt, encouraging them to be as specific as possible, then I would imagine how that would feel in my own body. That helped me to identify the cause and make a diagnosis."

He nodded. "I think that now you don't require your imagination. You can truly feel the sensations others experience."

"Just pain?" I asked.

"I'm not sure."

After that we conducted further investigations and discovered that, with skin-to-skin contact, I could feel any unusual sensations Carlisle experienced. When he was in the equivalent of homeostasis, I felt nothing, but I could sense physical discomfort in many forms. I felt regretful that he had to subject himself to various painful experiments, but he assured me that he did not mind at all. It was all in the name of science and research, and he was happy to oblige.

Naturally we both remained quite curious to know if my talent would extend beyond my father, but we had to wait for some time to answer this question.

When I was able to be among human society again, Carlisle slipped me into the hospital with increasing frequency so that I could take the hand of an injured or ill patient and test the extent of my abilities. In time, we made something of a game of it. He would not tell me the person's ailment, and I would try to guess based upon what I felt. I was, unsurprisingly, quite adept at this.

In 1904, Carlisle and I moved to St. Paul. He found it necessary to relocate every five or six years so that his unchanging appearance would not arouse suspicions. After all, he could not remain thirty-three years old forever…

I was doing extremely well in resisting human blood. In large part, this stemmed from my knowledge of the pain I would cause if I were to feed upon a human. I had experienced the agony of deep wounds, and I understood intimately how excruciating an injury my teeth would inflict. This mitigated my thirst when I was near human beings.

I had become enamored with medicine once again as I tested my skills in the hospital in Chicago. This, in combination with my excellent self-control, convinced Carlisle and me that I should finish my studies and become a physician.

I enrolled at the University of Minnesota College of Medicine in the fall of 1905. We had decided that I should complete the full course of medical school so that I would be current on the latest information and techniques, as well as relearn any material that had faded from my human memories. I excelled in my studies.

Five months before my graduation, Carlisle treated a thirty-four-year-old woman with grave injuries. Recognizing her from a brief previous encounter, he was drawn to her and found himself unable to leave her to her natural fate. He brought Esme home, changing her two days before Christmas. She became an integral part of our lives, eventually becoming Carlisle's wife and my surrogate mother.

I graduated in the spring of 1909 with highest honors. Carlisle's pride in me, for all I had accomplished both academically and personally, radiated from him as he presented me with the fine leather black bag fully stocked with the best quality instruments, medicines, and supplies.

We worked side-by-side for nearly a year. He served as my mentor, I as his protégée. The staff was duly impressed by my superior diagnostic skills, and comments about my deep compassion as my face reflected flickers of my patients' pain were a part of each workday for me.

At first I was thrilled with my success. The fact that I could help my patients so effectively left me elated and mitigated the pain I experienced on a daily basis. Carlisle's delight in my abilities helped assuage the discomfort, too.

After some months, though, I found that other parts of my life began changing in subtle ways. I had always found joy in playing the violin Carlisle had gotten for me shortly after my transformation. I had spent many wonderful hours both performing and composing music. But now my interest waned. Occasionally it would flare up again, but those times became less and less frequent.

In the early days, I could leave the patient's pain behind the moment I broke contact. By the time I left their sides, I felt nothing physically, and my mind immediately cleared for my next task. But as the weeks and months wore on, the pain and discomfort began to linger. Fleeting traces of it would hover in my mind. It was not truly physical pain, I suppose, but the intense memory of it. The more I experienced, the more it remained with me, haunting me with the ghost of suffering.

After eight months, sometimes I forgot to breathe. Carlisle noticed more than once and reprimanded me with a sharp whisper too low for human ears. He thought I was merely distracted by the flurry of activity and accolades that inevitably surrounded me. Determined to use my gift as effectively as possible, I brushed off my lapses with similar excuses.

After nine months, I could not leave the suffering behind when I finished my shifts at the hospital. At home or out hunting, I was restless, fretful, unable to relax. I had not touched my violin in many weeks, and sometimes my temper flared. Carlisle and Esme were beginning to worry about me, but I assured them I would be fine. After all, I was a vampire; nothing could harm me.

I was wrong. It was during the tenth month of my tenure as a new physician that I broke. I am not sure I will ever know if there was some singular precipitating factor that finally pushed me over the metaphorical edge, but one day after seeing a particularly heavy caseload, my mind throbbed with incessant pain. Every symptom of every injury and illness I had encountered that day thrummed through me relentlessly. The cries and moans of the patients, their rapid heartbeats and quick, sharp breaths, echoed in my mind.

Barely managing to maintain some semblance of composure, I managed to complete my shift. I hurried from the examination room and ducked into a supply closet, knowing only that I needed to find solitude. I could not bear to be among people for one moment longer. I pushed myself into the back corner, my hands automatically flying to my head. My skull pounded with the memories, the aching and anxiousness, the fear and suffering and tumult that I could not forget. It roiled through me, crashing in great waves, battering me and splintering my very being.

I grasped at my hair and pressed my hands over my temples, but these ineffectual gestures did nothing. Rocking back and forth, moaning quietly, I looked at my hands. It was through touch that I had acquired these unbearable memories. I locked my fingers and pulled my knees up to my chest, encasing my legs with my steel arms. I was still rocking, my hands clenching and unclenching as my fingers twisted and twined. I heard the sharp snap of breaking bones, but amid the torment in my mind I felt no additional pain.

Carlisle heard my whimpers and found me. He wrapped his arms around me, holding onto me for dear life. I could not comprehend his words for some time, but finally I could understand snippets. He managed to calm me enough so that he could help me leave the hospital.

We crept out a back door, but there were still several witnesses to my unhinged state. Carlisle murmured a few words about nervous exhaustion, and no one questioned him. I think we both knew at that point that I would never return there anyway.

When he got me home, he steered me to the couch where he eased me down. My legs could not support me even if I had wished them to. I was still somewhat incoherent—a state in which I would remain for many weeks—but I can recall that he took my hand and gently examined it, sadness washing over his features when he realized that I had fractured three of my own fingers. He reset them with quick efficiency then held my hand while they healed.

I recall his fingers running through my hair and massaging my shoulders and neck in his attempts to soothe and comfort me. But I was nearly inconsolable. My mind remained splintered, and a great deal of time passed before I began to mend.

Carlisle remained with me throughout the ordeal. Esme did what she could, singing softly to me and sitting with me when Carlisle had to leave. Eventually I regained some of my faculties, but it quickly became evident that I needed to get away from the city, away from the human milieu, because even the sounds of people were still too painful for me.

After some searching, Carlisle found a piece of abandoned property about three miles from the tiny town of Madras, Oregon. The area was sparsely populated, and the property he purchased encompassed ten wooded acres. I could be alone and immerse myself in the complete solitude I required.

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><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	3. Chapter 3

I suppose several months had passed before I felt any inclination to venture away from my little house in the Oregon wilderness. In truth, I had lost track of the time; it meant nothing to me, anyway.

My mind was somewhat clearer than it had been when I'd first arrived. I could think back on a handful of experiences without feeling extreme distress. But my psyche remained very tender, and I had no wish to seek out society of any sort.

However, a growing sense of ennui was nagging at me. I had read every one of my books a dozen times over. I had forced myself to play my violin but had found no pleasure in the task. I had built a stone fireplace and carved an elaborately detailed mantle to mount above it. My home was immaculate, the grounds surrounding it pristine and manicured, and I had nothing left to do.

I had only explored the area immediately around my property, and only as far as necessary to find game. I fed infrequently, feeling no hunger but remembering Carlisle's words: "You must eat, son, even when there is no thirst. Promise me that you will feed." I could not break that small vow, so sometimes I found a deer and drank apathetically.

On a drizzly morning in late spring, I tucked my favorite volume of Tennyson into my jacket pocket and set out toward the mountains. The towering peaks of the Cascades held some appeal to me, as I had never had the opportunity to scale a high mountain. I could see the summit peeking through the fog and had the fleeting thought that it would be pleasant to emerge from the cloud bank into the sunshine, where I might sit openly in the clean, crisp air and read.

I began to walk at a brisk pace, equivalent to a fast run for a human. I planned my route carefully, using memories of my journey to the homestead weeks ago. Once I had passed Madras, there were only a handful of inhabited properties. Most lay to the south and east, closer to the river. I could only recall one homestead that I might pass, and the dilapidated condition of the house and small barn had indicated that it was deserted. Even so, I planned to swerve north well before I reached it, preferring to err on the side on caution.

I strolled along, unperturbed by the dampness and grey skies. Over the last half dozen years, I had grown accustomed to being outside only during overcast weather, so I thought little of cloudy days. The cool mist did not chill me; temperature was of scant concern to me.

I passed through wooded areas and emerged into a meadow. Droplets of water clung to the petals of the white flowers carpeting the ground. I bent to brush my fingertip over a tiny bloom, thinking that Esme would find this spot lovely. She adored flowers, and her loving care kept a variety of plants thriving in our home and yard.

I remained crouched for some time, frozen as memories of the impeccably decorated house filling my mind. I could see Carlisle and Esme laughing, reading to each other, playing ma jong, and listening to me as I performed my newest violin concerto. I winced as the images shifted. I pressed a hand to my temple when I saw their stricken faces from my huddled, miserable position upon the couch where I had lain during those dark and distressing days.

Forcing myself to my feet, I dashed from the meadow and back into the shelter of the trees. For some time I ran, allowing myself to feel nothing but the wind against my cheeks. Suddenly I stopped, slightly disoriented. I had lost track of the direction and was unsure precisely where I was. I turned around to find the mountain range and realized that I had wandered further south than I intended.

The trees were sparser here, the land more open. As my gaze swept the landscape, I saw a tendril of smoke rising just beyond the nearest grove. Immediately I turned, my senses attuned to any indication of human presence nearby. I could smell the carbon from the fire, and as I listened I caught a whisper of a human voice. Someone was living there.

I crept forward, keeping within the shelter of the grove. Between the low, leafy branches I could see a small house and barn. An untended wheat field lay beyond the house. My first glimpse reminded me of the deserted property I had passed those many weeks ago, but the buildings were in better condition now. Someone had moved in and begun taking care of the house.

I could still see the effects of neglect: a broken window, peeling paint on the barn door and one side of the house, weeds between the home and barn. But the area immediately surrounding the house was clear, and a few small potted flowers sat on the clean porch. Two exterior walls appeared freshly painted in a pale shade of blue, while the front door was a pleasing cornflower hue.

I listened intently now, but I was too far away to hear heartbeats or breathing. However, there was a low snort from inside the barn, and I realized that the new inhabitants had a horse or cow. A gentle murmur immediately followed. It was a feminine voice, light and soft. I took one step back to assure myself that I was fully concealed among the trees, then I froze.

The barn door opened, and a slender, dark-haired woman stepped out. The sight of another human sent my mind into a minor panic. The solitude I had cultivated so carefully seemed tenuous and brittle now, and I was not ready to relinquish it. The mere knowledge that other people were within a few miles of me sent me running back into the woods.

I did not stop moving until I reached my own home. I slipped inside and shut the door before sinking down into one of the chairs. My body felt heavy with emotional exhaustion, and I lowered my head into my waiting hands. My fingers curled, tugging lightly at my hair as I focused on taking slower and steadier breaths to calm myself.

After a time, the sense of anxiousness began to fade as the rational part of my mind realized that the newly inhabited homestead was at least an hour's walk from my property. My house was hidden by dense trees, and there was little chance that anyone would stumble across it. The only sign that I was here would be smoke rising from the chimney. While I found the fire comforting, I had no need of the heat. I decided immediately that I would forgo any blazes in the future.

I sat motionlessly for a long time, well into the night, trying to keep my thoughts clear. Eventually I reached into my pocket and withdrew the volume of poetry to read until the rosy light of dawn began to fill the room.

I remained inside for another full day, occupying my thoughts with poetry and prose, and as darkness fell I found myself adequately calm and cognizant. Cautiously I began to think back to the previous day. It seemed prudent to determine how many people were living in the pale blue house. I had seen no signs of children—no toys or rope swings in the trees—so I felt that the inhabitants were most likely adults.

Closing my eyes, I visualized the woman I had glimpsed. She seemed relatively young; there was no grey in her hair, and her posture was solid. Indeed, as I recalled the image, a vague sense of familiarity niggled at me. Perhaps she reminded me of Esme with her slender build.

Most likely the new home owners were a young couple hoping to make a life together on their homestead. Their land was decent for farming, with rich soil and adequate supplies of water from the nearby river. But until they had established gardens, fields, and livestock, the man would likely hunt for game. This could pose a problem; there was a possibility that he could come onto my land.

This thought began to gnaw at me, leaving me more and more anxious. I needed to find out more about him and more about his farm. Perhaps there were several animals in the barn and he would not need to venture out hunting. If that were the case, it would certainly put my mind at ease.

Still, I felt some trepidation as I considered leaving the sanctuary of my home to observe my neighbor again. I waited two more days before I ventured out once more. I could have made the trip in less than a quarter of an hour, but I chose to walk instead. It gave me time to center myself, to prepare to see humans again. While I had managed the day-and-a-half train journey and the intrusion of the deliverymen, those experiences had left me shaken and apprehensive. It was only in the last few weeks that I had begun to feel myself again—and my brief brush with humanity three days ago had loosened a few tendrils in my tender mind.

As I neared the homestead, I focused all of my senses intently. I listened for any indicators of life nearby but heard only birds and small mammals. I inhaled deeply, testing the air for scents, yet found no hints of human fragrance. Once inside the copse nearest the property, a new sound tickled my ears. I caught a few faint snatches of humming.

I could discern a human scent now, too, as well as a muskier one. The latter was bovine; there was a cow in the barn. But the former was lighter, with a wisp of floral undertones. I moved my head from side to side, testing the air as thoroughly as I could to determine how many different humans' scents I could identify. I was fairly certain that there was only one.

A few more steps led me to the edge of the trees. Now I could hear the humming more clearly. Was that Brahms? It almost sounded like the Concerto in D Major, one of my favorites. But the notes weren't quite right. The performer appeared slightly tone deaf. Still, I was intrigued. Who in this remote wilderness would hum—let alone know—a piece of classical music?

When I heard a voice clearly, I nearly jumped.

"I'll be back soon, Callie." The woman had spoken; she was inside the barn.

Straining my senses, I tried to determine who else was in there with her. Callie was a woman's name; perhaps there was a child after all, or her mother or sister? Maybe she had hired a girl to help with the work? Or could the moniker be an endearment she used with her husband?

I had little choice but to watch and wait, as I could not hear any heartbeats at this distance. After a few more moments, the woman stepped from the barn with a pail of milk hanging from her hand. It looked heavy in her dainty grasp.

The animal lowed mournfully, and she turned her head back toward the barn. "I know, Callie. You're not very patient for a cow." There was a slight teasing tone to her voice.

There was something familiar about her gentle voice, but I could not place it. I waited, watching as she shut the door then ran a hand over her hair. The long, sable locks were tied at her neck with a sapphire ribbon. She remained in profile for a few moments then turned to look out at the trees.

I stopped breathing. She could not see me, could she? But now I could view her quite clearly. Her fair skin had a light flush of exertion, her cheeks a delicate pink beneath her dark eyes. A breeze rustled the leaves, and she wrapped her free arm around herself.

Her expression was placid, yet there was a tinge of sadness in the set of her mouth. I watched as her lips moved noiselessly. She had whispered something that I could not hear. Yet as I watched her beautiful mouth move, I remembered her: She was the young woman who had stumbled boarding the train.

She turned and began walking back toward the house. I listened carefully as she stepped inside, waiting for her to speak to her husband. But I heard no words, only the broken humming and sounds of liquid sloshing slightly.

I stood among the trees for a long time, but she did not come out of the house again. Finally, as the shadows lengthened, I made my way home.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	4. Chapter 4

I thought about the young woman often during the next few days. I felt certain that she had been alone the last time I saw her, but perhaps her husband was simply away. Madras was nearly an hour's journey by wagon; a trip to town could take the better part of a day.

While no signs pointed absolutely to the presence of a husband, I remained somewhat troubled by the possibility. I decided that I needed to return to the blue house and make a definitive determination.

This time I waited until late afternoon to visit. If the woman's husband had gone to town or to a neighbor's farm, he would surely return by suppertime. He certainly would not leave his delicate wife alone for the entire night…

I arrived in the copse at twilight. The house was dim, and the cow was mooing softly, an uncomfortable sound. Had the woman and her husband both gone away for the day, or perhaps for a longer stay elsewhere?

An odd feeling crept over me; I was disappointed. I did not really understand why. The last thing I wished was to be around humans, so my emotions must be a vestige of the confusion that had plagued me until recently. Perhaps it was my mind's way of telling me that I had not recovered fully.

My musings were interrupted by the faint strands of Brahms, hummed once again in that odd, slightly dissonant way. I blinked, focusing my attention as the young woman appeared from behind the house. She held a bunch of bright flowers in her hand.

I expected her to enter the house, but she continued walking toward the barn. She paused by the door to say, "Hang on, Callie. I'll be back in a little while."

I found it odd that she would attempt to tell an animal about her plans. Surely the beast could not comprehend the words, but perhaps it found her tone soothing. I knew that I did. She began humming again as she continued walking, nearly paralleling the copse in which I hid.

My eyes followed her, watching as she made her way to a small hillock a hundred yards from the house. I had not noticed it before, but now I saw that something was mounted atop it. Her steps slowed as she approached the rise, and for a few seconds she ceased moving. She swept a hand across her cheek, then, lifting her skirt slightly, ascended the low hill.

She knelt, placing the flowers near the small protuberance as her lips moved with words too soft for even my acute ears to hear. Then she stood and began walking back toward the barn. She was quiet as she entered the structure, but I saw a flare of light and knew she had lit a lantern.

I waited and observed as she emerged with the milk pail in her small hand. She walked with languid steps to the house. I could see her through the window as she sat down in the dim room, facing away from me. It was nearly dark now, and I knew she would not be able to see me even if she decided to turn around.

I darted from the copse to the hillock. Her scent was strong in the evening air. Honeysuckle and rose petals seemed to envelop me; the aroma was delightful. I paused before I bent to examine the headstone I found on the small knoll.

I ran my fingertip over the inscription:

_Charles Swan _

_July 28, 1854- June 14, 1910_

_Beloved father of Isabella_

_His wisdom will always linger_

"Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers," I murmured, reciting a line from Tennyson.

I remained at the grave for some time, considering the implications. Charles Swan was fifty-six years old when he died. The young woman living here appeared to be in her early twenties. She must be his daughter, Isabella. I assumed that she had arrived in Oregon on the same day that I had: May 25. Thus, she had lived here with her father for less than one month before his death. Had he been ill? The condition of the property when I first passed it would attest to that. I wondered if his debility was the reason she had come.

I turned to look back at the neat little house. It remained dark; she had not yet lit a lantern or even a candle. She remained seated, and she had begun humming again.

I listened raptly, and now I realized what was wrong with the tune: There was an melancholy edge to it.

I wandered back to the grove and stood there in the trees for many minutes. Finally I turned and walked away, my legs moving at a human pace. The image of the poignant young woman—Isabella—sitting in the darkness would not leave my mind.

When I arrived at my homestead, I went to the armoir and removed my violin. My hands seemed to play of their own volition as the dulcet strains of Brahms' Concerto in D Major filled the room.

* * *

><p>Aside from the letters I had received and sent via the deliverymen, I had not corresponded with Carlisle since my arrival in Oregon. I had truly lost track of the days, and I did not know the exact date anymore. From the angle of the sun, I deduced that it was late August or early September. It had been nearly three months since my father had heard from me. He was probably growing frantic with worry.<p>

There were only two ways to send a letter to him, and both would require me to have at least minimal contact with humans. The first option was to ask a neighbor to drop a letter at the post office in Madras on his next visit to the small town. The second option was to travel to town myself and place the letter in the hands of the postmaster.

My nearest neighbor was Miss Swan, but I did not know how often—if ever—she made the trip into Madras. She did not have a horse, and walking would take several hours. For a few long moments I wondered how she got the supplies she would inevitably require from time to time. Perhaps another neighbor assisted her?

I was still debating the best course of action as I sat upon my porch in the moonlight writing to Carlisle. I assured him that I had settled in nicely and was feeling much better, though I dared not say fully recovered. The fact that I shrank at the thought of posting the letter attested to that. However, I could tell him in full honesty that I was content and wanted for nothing. I sent my love to Esme as well, and thanked both of them for the care and concern they had shown me.

I folded the letter carefully and placed it in an envelope then wrote out the address. I set the envelope upon my open palm and stared at it until the silvery moonbeams dimmed and pink light began to tinge the sky.

I suppose by that point I had already decided that I would travel to town and post the letter myself. It was the most expedient option, and Carlisle deserved some peace of mind as soon as possible. I worried that he would feel the need to come and see me if he did not hear from me eventually, and I remained unsure about Esme's comfort in staying alone.

Would she be as alone as Miss Swan, sitting in the darkness as a morose melody softly filled the room? The worry lingered as I began to ready myself for the trip to Madras. I could reach the town in less than half an hour at a moderate pace. My plan was to arrive early, just as the postmaster entered the store. With luck, I would avoid interactions with more than a handful of individuals that way.

I tucked a comb into my pocket and donned my jacket, taking my hat in my hand. The day promised to be overcast, but on the chance that the sun filtered through the clouds, I needed to be well covered.

I set out, striding steadily for several minutes. Yet unaccountably my pace slowed, and it was not until I took note of my surroundings that I realized I was near Miss Swan's homestead. It lay just beyond the grove to my left. A hint of carbon tickled my nose; she had a fire burning. She must be an early riser.

And then an idea struck me, and my legs began to carry me forward before I had time to consider completely what I was doing. I was planning to ask Miss Swan if there was anything she required in town. I was going anyway; I could easily purchase any needed supplies. It seemed the neighborly thing to do.

However, when I reached the edge of the trees, I stopped as my mind returned fully to me. What was I doing? This was an irrational idea. I ran a hand through my unruly hair and turned around to leave.

"Hello?" a quiet voice called.

I froze. Had she seen me, or was she speaking to the cow? My hands clenched anxiously at my sides as I debated darting away.

"Hello?" she inquired again, her voice a little louder, and now I could hear the soft thrum of her heartbeat. Her heady floral perfume washed over me. She was approaching me.

I still held my hat in my hand. A quick glance at the sky assured me that the cloud cover remained, so I would not have to affront her by donning my hat in her presence.

"Um… hello?" she repeated.

Her heart was beating very quickly now; she must be frightened. Slowly I turned around, trying to arrange my features into a semblance of a pleasant expression. But it had been so long since I had interacted with another being that I honestly wasn't sure if I was offering her a grimace or a smile.

"Hello," I replied, my voice cracking slightly. I realized I had not spoken in a very long time.

A soft blush spread over her cheeks. She had stopped about five feet away from me. She clasped her hands together anxiously and ducked her head for a moment.

"Good morning," she whispered.

"Please pardon my intrusion," I said, as a few basic manners returned to my frazzled brain. "I apologize if I frightened you. I moved to the area recently and live over there." I gestured vaguely to the north. "I was going to Madras, to mail a letter," I patted the missive in my pocket, "and I saw the smoke from your house."

She looked up, her cheeks even pinker, but her heart had slowed incrementally, and a shy smile flickered across his lips. "Oh…"

I cleared my throat; for some reason it felt tight. "My name is Edward Cullen." Hesitantly I took several steps forward and extended my hand.

She drew a breath and lifted her hand to take mine. She gasped when our fingers touched, and I remembered with embarrassment that my skin was much cooler than hers. I dropped my arm.

"My apologies. It's a chilly morning," I offered feebly.

She nodded, pulling her shawl a bit tighter. "I'm Isabella Swan," she said, and now I could appreciate how beautiful her voice was. The soft, slightly tentative tones were as lovely as she was.

I bowed slightly. "Miss Swan. It is a pleasure to meet you. I wonder if there is anything I might purchase for you when I am in town?"

"Oh!" Now her cheeks flamed again, but a sincere smile brightened her face. "Goodness, that's so kind of you. I don't know." She glanced back at the house. "Um… I think it might be too much, too large and awkward to carry…" Her voice trailed off.

"What is it?" I inquired. Of course nothing was too unwieldy or heavy for me.

"The window," she said, sweeping her slender, pale hand toward the east side of the house. "I ordered a new pane, and I'm sure it's been waiting for me at the store for ages, but I haven't been able to go and get it. I… I'd like to put it in place before the cold weather gets here."

"It…" I had to pause as her scent enveloped me utterly, leaving me momentarily befuddled. "It would be my pleasure to deliver it to you."

From the barn we heard the cow's plaintive moos. Miss Swan turned her head distractedly. "Excuse me, please. I should attend to her. She gets impatient and uncomfortable…"

I tipped my hat. "Of course."

She took a step back, nearly tripping on some unseen obstacle. I had to rein in the urge to reach out and steady her. She began to walk away, but she paused to say, "Thank you, Mr. Cullen." Her cheeks remained rosy.

"It is my pleasure," I replied, then I turned, too, and hurried off at a rapid human pace toward town.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	5. Chapter 5

I posted my letter only moments after the doors of the store opened. Two letters for me waited in the general delivery box. The store owner's wife, who also served as postmistress, was the only person in the mercantile, and I was able to get Miss Swan's package without interacting with anyone else. However, it became clear immediately that the woman was acquainted with Miss Swan, and I would not be able to get away without a conversation.

When I requested the package, she asked in a soft voice, "Do you know Bella?"

_Bella… how lovely. _ Hoping to discourage further queries, I nodded rather curtly. "She is my neighbor."

"Oh. I haven't seen you in town before…"

I didn't feel that she was prying; rather, her expression struck me as one of gentle amiability.

I replied, "No, I moved here recently and brought adequate supplies to last for some time." I felt that she was going to respond to this, so I added quickly, "But I'm glad to know that your establishment has everything I will need in the future."

She was a fairly plain young woman, perhaps a few years older than Miss Swan, but her kind disposition gave her a pretty glow. My response brought a smile to her face

"Yes, I think we do," she replied as she ran her thin hand over the flat, brown parcel. "How is Bella doing?" Her tone was a mixture of concern and sympathy.

This struck me as an odd question. I barely knew my neighbor. However, in an effort to show some semblance of politeness, I replied, "I believe she is well."

"I've been worried about her." She sighed. "I've meant to go out and see her for several weeks, but I haven't been able to." I could see that she sincerely regretted this. "She's been through so much…"

This piqued my curiosity. Was she referring to the death of Miss Swan's father? I gave her an inquisitive look.

"She came back here to be with her father," she explained, her voice full of compassion. "Her mother took her to Boise when she was only three or four. She and her mother came back to visit a few times when she was young, and Bella came by herself a couple of years ago but only stayed a little while. She wrote to her father regularly, but he didn't always write back… he wasn't one for a lot of words."

"What happened to him?" I asked without even thinking.

Her sadness was evident as she continued, "After Bella and her mother left for Boise, he moved out there to the old Crowley place—he was the deputy here in town, but he just didn't seem to have the heart for it anymore after Mrs. Swan took Bella away. He didn't come to town much—once every month or so—but I could see that he wasn't well even last summer. I didn't say anything for a while, but last time he was here—that must've been in early May—he looked terrible. I knew something was really wrong…I was so worried, and I didn't want to intrude, but I asked if he'd been down to Bend to see the doctor there. He muttered something about being healthy as a horse… He was a stubborn one, Mr. Swan. Maybe he was afraid to admit that there was something the matter with him. I knew he hadn't written to Bella in a long time, and I was really concerned about him, so I sent her a letter." Now she sounded apologetic. "I wasn't sure if I should, but I just had a feeling that he needed her."

"And she came out to take care of him," I finished.

"She did. But it was too late by then, I think. Still, I know she did everything she could. He passed away about three weeks after she arrived. She came into town for the undertaker and minister, and they buried him out on his property. My husband, Ben, and I went out there for the burial… Bella was so sad; I didn't know how to help her. She came back to town a couple of times for paint and other things to fix up the house. It looked like Mr. Swan hadn't been able to take care of the place for at least a year. If any of us had known just how sick he was, we'd have tried to do something more to help…" Sincere regret washed over her features.

"I'm sure you would have," I murmured, recalling that humans liked this sort of acknowledgment.

"I worry about her, staying out there all alone. And since she sold the horse, she hasn't even been into town…"

"She sold her horse?" This seemed quite strange to me.

The woman nodded. "Mr. Swan's crops hadn't done well the last couple of years—he may not have been able to tend them properly. Bella had a little money of her own, but with the expense of the undertaker, the headstone, and all the things she bought for the house, she needed more."

I was not sure how to respond to this, so I said nothing. She looked up at me, seeing something in my face that made her smile slightly.

"I'm really glad she has a neighbor now—someone to look out for her."

"Oh," I corrected quickly, suddenly spurred to speak, "I live quite a distance from her. It was only by happenstance that I passed by her property…"

She seemed a bit disappointed to hear this. "Oh. Well, when you drop this off, please tell her that Angela—Mrs. Weber—said hello and hopes she'll make it into town again one of these days."

"I will. Thank you." I was feeling anxious again and knew I needed to get away.

I took the package and left the store. A few people were milling about as I departed the town, but I was able to hurry past them without any additional contact. Even so, I could still hear their hearts beating and the air moving in and out of their lungs, and their human scents drifted over me.

Against the solitude I had enjoyed for the past several months, my interaction with the store owner and my brush with a handful of townspeople were nearly too much. However, with effort I focused my thoughts and managed to leave the small community without feeling utterly overwhelmed. Still, my unease told me that I was not yet fully healed.

I calmed as the trees grew denser and I realized that I was absolutely alone once again. I carried the large box with the window pane easily under my arm. My thoughts returned to Miss Swan as I walked. My suspicions about her father had been accurate. I wondered vaguely why she had chosen to remain on his property, and I began to feel slightly on edge again. I replayed the short conversation I had shared with her, and the memory of her melodious voice soothed some of the lingering disquiet from my mind.

I felt that she had not recognized me from our brief contact on the train. Human memories were fallible and weak compared with mine, so I was not surprised. I wondered if I should say something. Or would she find it odd that I recognized her? After all, we had met for only a few moments months ago.

I neared her property well before noon. However, she would not expect me for hours; she would believe I would require much of the day to walk to Madras and back. So I returned to the pretty meadow I had found on my first foray from home. Carefully placing her package in the lush grass, I took several minutes to read Carlisle's letters. He and Esme were worried about me, and in the second letter he stated that if he did not hear from me by the middle of September he would travel to Madras to find out how I was doing. I was relieved that my missive would reach him before this deadline. After I had folded both letters and returned them to my jacket pocket, I sat and looked up at the sky. Eventually I lay back, my head resting on my hands, and closed my eyes.

I enjoyed the peacefulness for a long time. Finally I glanced at the sun again and realized that it was mid-afternoon. I could deliver the package now. As I stood, I noticed a delicate blue flower near my foot. On a whim, I plucked it up and tucked it into the string around the parcel.

I made my way back to Miss Swan's house with leisurely steps. When I emerged from the copse, I saw her sitting on the porch reading.

I approached her, unsure what to do. I did not wish to startle her, but I was not comfortable calling out to her, either. When I was about fifteen feet away, I paused and removed my hat.

"Good afternoon," I said, hoping I had spoken loudly enough for her to hear me.

She looked up with a slight start. "Oh! Mr. Cullen." Her cheeks grew pink immediately, and her gaze quickly landed on the parcel I held. She stood, setting the book aside. I noticed that it was _Wuthering Heights._

"I've got your package," I said, nodding toward it.

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen."

"Please, it's Edward."

"Edward, then," she replied softly. "I'm Bella."

The name was beautiful as it passed her lips, and I wanted to repeat it aloud, but I refrained.

She moved forward to take the package from me, but I felt it was too bulky for her, so I said, "Let me just set it here."

I placed it against the porch railing.

"Thank you," she repeated. "That was very kind of you."

"It was no trouble," I said. "Would you like me to install it for you?"

"Oh, no, I can do it," she replied quickly.

"Are you certain? It's no trouble—" I was repeating myself; how foolish I must sound to her!

But she didn't seem to be listening to me anymore. Her eyes were lowered, and her hand rested on the top edge of the parcel.

"Thank you again," she said perfunctorily. "Excuse me, please."

With no additional words, she hurried inside. I stood for several long moments wondering what had happened. Had I offended her in some way? I had no idea. I thought I had been well-mannered around humans during my years as a student and as a doctor. But maybe I had lost some essential part of myself, some crucial bit needed for sociable interactions.

Embarrassed and ashamed, I turned to leave. As I did, I noticed the little blue flower lying on the porch. I quickly returned it to adorn the plain package, then I hastened away.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	6. Chapter 6

I did not leave my home again for two days. I put my violin back in the armoire, behind the unused pillows and blankets, and sat despondently in one of the chairs for a very long time. I reviewed my last brief conversation with Bella repeatedly, but I could not understand what I had done to offend her.

I spent many hours recalling interactions with other humans. I recounted innumerable conversations in the hopes that I could identify my misstep, but nothing egregious came to mind. The only possibility that remained was that I was still deeply flawed. This realization left me lugubrious.

I ruminated over my new insight for many hours. I had felt somewhat unstable when I left Madras, and perhaps whatever I had inadvertently said or done in Bella's presence was simply an aftereffect, a lingering symptom, of my malady.

The truth was that I had felt considerably better since my first glimpse of Bella. My thoughts had been clearer—except when I was momentarily overwhelmed by her fragrance—and I had been feeding more regularly and playing my violin. There was something about her that had a salubrious effect upon me. That much was evident even to my slightly shaky reasoning. I knew I needed to see her again, even if it was just from afar.

* * *

><p>I left my house in the evening; it was completely dark by the time I reached her property. I stood at the edge of the grove for awhile, allowing my sharp eyes to take in the scene before me. A lantern illuminated one area of the little house, and a thin wisp of smoke rose from the chimney. I noticed that the broken window had been replaced with the new pane. I took a moment to assess the atmosphere and realized that the night was growing chilly. I felt glad that Bella would not feel a draft anymore.<p>

I could see her through the window. She sat facing the fire, the soft light casting a pink glow over her fair cheeks. She was reading again. Occasionally she lifted a delicate china cup to her lips to sip something.

After perhaps half an hour, she stood. For a moment she seemed to falter, but she steadied herself with a hand on the back of her chair then moved away. I found her mild clumsiness rather endearing, although I did not know why. Perhaps it was because I could still recall the touch of her hand when I had steadied her on the train. I thought I would enjoy feeling her hand in mine again…

She disappeared from my view for several minutes, but when she returned she bent toward the fire, and the blaze diminished to a smolder. She lifted the lantern and carried it toward the back of the house.

I waited for a few minutes longer, then she extinguished the light. I assumed she had retired for the night. Still, I remained where I stood, watching until the moon was high in the dark, starry sky.

* * *

><p>I had realized, of course, that Bella lived alone, but the gravity of this situation did not strike me until the next day. I was sorting through my things, seeing if I had any items that she might be able to use. Did she have enough blankets to keep her warm as the weather began to change? Perhaps she would like the down pillow that Esme had packed in one of my trunks…<p>

I removed the pillow from the trunk and found a folded newspaper beneath it. Esme had tucked a few papers into my bag, thinking I might want to read them to occupy my thoughts while I was on the train. I had not touched them during the journey, but now I skimmed the headlines. The news was old, of course, but one story caught my attention. It was about a string of burglaries in one of the poorer sections of St. Paul. The perpetrator was violent, too, beating his victims before making off with their few valuable possessions. At the time of the article, he had robbed and bludgeoned an elderly man and a young mother. He preyed upon the weak, those most vulnerable, and that was utterly unconscionable. I wondered if this reprehensible criminal had been caught. I sincerely hoped so.

Yet more of his ilk existed. What if a thug found Bella's modest home? She was defenseless, all alone with no one to call for help, no one to protect her. She needed someone to watch out for her, just as Mrs. Weber had so wisely suggested to me.

I would be a good neighbor. I would be certain that Bella was safe. Perhaps it was too soon for me to speak with her again, but I could still be near her and ensure that no harm came to her.

* * *

><p>That night I returned to her house. Again I watched as she read quietly. A noise in the brush drew my attention for a few moments as I shooed away a raccoon, knowing that these crafty animals sometimes stole food or other items from humans. By the time I returned my watchful gaze to the house, Bella had taken the lantern to the bedroom, and soon she snuffed it and went to bed.<p>

Once again I remained in the trees until the sky lightened to grey. A part of me wanted to approach the house, to see that she had slept soundly and would arise refreshed, but I resisted this urge. It would be an invasion of her privacy to draw near and watch her through the window.

The next night, however, I disregarded propriety for the sake of prudence. As I sat at the edge of copse in the cool stillness, a slight noise came from inside the house. I was too far away to hear Bella's heart or breathing, of course, but other sounds, such as the clink of a pot or shifting of wood in the fire, were audible to me. This was something else, though. It was a little moan. I stood quickly, listening with all my preternatural skill, and heard it again.

In a second I was outside Bella's bedroom window. I hesitated just a moment before peering inside. She lay among the tangled covers, her head turning from side to side as her loose, dark tresses splayed out over the white pillow. Her eyes were closed, but her lips moved. One hand curled at her side, reaching down then pulling back.

I could not make out any words. It seemed she was muttering something incomprehensible. I watched her face carefully, concerned that she was uncomfortable. Her creamy skin was pale, but a hint of rose brushed over her cheeks. I could just make out her heartbeat through the glass; it was rapid but steady. Her eyes moved quickly beneath her lowered lids. With relief, I surmised that she was not ill. Rather, she was immersed in a bad dream.

I wanted to soothe her, to do something to ease her distress just as she had done for me. But I did not dare to enter her room. Instead I stood motionlessly, watching until she stilled and seemed to slip back into deep sleep. Reluctantly I retreated back to the grove, where I remained until dawn.

* * *

><p>The following night Bella's little cries drew me to her window once again. I had been watching her since the early evening, unable to stay away any longer. The night had progressed as usual, with her reading, sipping tea, then retiring.<p>

I looked through the glass to find her again amidst the twisted sheets and single blanket. He eyes were shut tightly, opaque lids aquiver with the flickering movements beneath. Her heart was beating quickly, but the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest attested to her state of slumber. She was sleeping heavily.

Bella's hair partially covered her face, but I could see her cheek. Her skin was flushed and shone with a fine sheen of perspiration. The night was chilly, yet she appeared warm. I worried again that she could be ill. She had walked rather slowly as she made her nightly rounds inside the house… I should have arrived earlier so that I could observe her when she went to the barn and back.

Berating myself for my lapse in attentiveness, I stood for a few moments debating what I should do. I could watch her for the remainder of the night to ensure her relative safety, then return in the morning to speak with her and inquire about her well-being. That would be the wisest course of action.

However, if she were indeed ill, she might require assistance before daylight. But I could not bear the thought of waking her. Surely she would suffer a terrible fright if I were to knock upon her door in the middle of the night.

I touched the windowsill, glancing down to find that there was no latch. I could easily open the window and slip inside. My nature gave me stealth, and I felt confident that I could enter her room noiselessly. Once near her, I could determine if she had a fever or was in pain, as well as assess her heart and lungs more thoroughly.

Decision made, I slid the window up with silent motions then ducked inside the room. Carefully I lowered the window then crept toward Bella's bed. In the closed, small space her scent was utterly enveloping, and for a few moments I felt disoriented by it. I took several steadying breaths then focused upon the beautiful woman lying before me.

I listened to her heart; the blood moved through the organ steadily if somewhat rapidly. She was breathing with quick inhalations, but I heard no rails or rhonchi in her lungs. Still, she appeared feverish, which concerned me. I lifted my hand, knowing that with a single touch I would feel the condition of her body and be able to determine whether or not she was ill.

I rested my hand over hers, which lay above the covers. Her skin was warm, but it had been months since I had assessed a patient for fever, and I felt I could not accurately judge her temperature. Instead I focused upon my own body. Fevers infused a warm to hot sensation in me, yet I was not experiencing any particular feelings of heat. I concentrated on the rest of my body, trying to identify any aches or areas of discomfort, but there were none. Bella was not ill.

Perhaps her dreams were responsible for her warmth. Or she might be at the point in her female cycle at which her body temperature rose slightly. Either way, she was not sick.

I drew my hand away.

"No," she murmured. "No… don't…Go away…."

I froze. Did she know that I was in her room? Her eyes remained closed, but she lifted her hands for a moment before they fell to the mattress again. Perhaps her sleeping mind was trying to defend herself.

Quickly yet quietly I climbed through the window and darted away from the house. I did not stop moving until I was well within the shelter of the trees. Once there, I sat and tried to calm myself. Looking down at my hands, I realized that moments ago I had willfully committed the very act that had led to my dissolution. I had used my gift again.

I ran my fingers through my hair, considering the implications. If Bella had been ill, what effect would the sensations have had on me? The briefest touches months ago had left me reeling. But I had not hesitated to lay my hand over hers for extended contact.

Confused, I remained in the grove until dawn, then I sprinted home, feeling it important to give Bella some true privacy.

* * *

><p>I was still considering my actions as the day wore on. However, a loud clap of thunder drew me from my reverie. A storm was coming in, and the nip in the air indicated a particularly cold deluge.<p>

I remained concerned about Bella. While she was probably healthy now, if she became chilled it could lead to illness. I recalled the single blanket I had seen on her bed. That was insufficient for a human, particularly one as slender and delicate as she was. The lingering sense that something was wrong would not leave me, either. All objective evidence to the contrary, I still believed that she had seemed unwell.

I had intended to use my enhanced sense of smell to determine if anything seemed amiss when I entered her room. But I had been so overwhelmed by her scent that I had forgotten to think about any anomalies I might have otherwise noted. I would not allow myself such an oversight again.

I tucked one of my unused and unneeded blankets under my arm and ran to Bella's homestead. Dark, angry clouds were beginning to gather, and the wind was rustling the leaves in the trees.

She had lit a lantern against the dimness, but I could see her inside the house. I emerged from the grove and walked slowly and purposefully toward the barn. I paused to listen, but heard only the cow's heartbeat, breathing, and gentle chewing.

Still, to be on the safe side, I called softly, "Miss Swan? Bella?"

There was no reply, so I continued on toward the house. I knocked on the front door, saying, "Bella, it's Edward Cullen, your neighbor."

At first I heard nothing and wondered where she could be. The wind was beginning to howl, making it difficult to discern her heartbeat through the walls. I knocked again, a bit more forcefully this time.

"Just… just a moment," her soft voice called from inside.

I waited for nearly a minute until I heard her shuffling across the floor. She opened the door slowly.

She blinked up at me. "Mr. Cullen?"

Again her gorgeous scent begin to cloak me, only to be dissipated by a gust of wind. She tugged her shawl more tightly around her slight frame. I noted that her hair was tied back, but a few strands had come loose. Her brown eyes appeared huge against her pale face. I feared I had frightened her or was making her anxious.

Attempting to calm her, I said, "There's a storm coming, and I think it's going to be a cold one. I have some extra blankets and thought perhaps you could use one?" I shifted the blanket into my hands.

She looked down. "I have blankets," she said.

My heart sank. I had offended her with my offer—

"But thank you," she added quickly. "That was very kind of you."

"It's no trouble," I attempted, but I could think of nothing else to say.

We stood in silence for several long seconds as I looked anywhere but at her. I wanted desperately to gaze at her lovely face, but such a blatant action seemed uncommonly rude.

Finally I did focus upon her face, as I felt her eyes upon me. Now her cheeks were very pink. Her eyes seemed unnaturally bright to me, but perhaps that was due to the light of the lantern she held.

She offered me a tiny smile then set the lantern a small table by the door. She reached for the blanket, taking it from my hands. Tucking it under her arm, she said, "Thank you."

Her voice, although still beautiful, sounded weak to me. The wind was whipping at my hair and clothing now, washing away all but the faintest traces of her aroma. If I remained outside, it would be impossible for me to assess her condition through scent alone. I needed to touch her again.

"Miss Swan," I began, extending my hand in the hopes that propriety would dictate that she take it, "is there anything else that you need?"

She hesitated for just a moment then slipped her little hand into mine. Once again I was struck by the warmth of her skin, but I felt absolutely nothing abnormal within my own body.

"No, thank you," she replied.

A fierce gust blew the hat from my head. "Oh!" I exclaimed, pulling my hand from hers and quickly retrieving the item.

Bella glanced up at the sky. "How far is your house?" she asked.

"Half an hour's walk," I replied.

"You should have just enough time to get home before the storm hits," she said.

I understood that this was a dismissal. I felt there was nothing else that I could do for her. Still, I asked as gently and kindly as I could, "Are you all right?"

She tried to smile, but she was not very successful. "Of course, Mr. Cullen. And thank you again for thinking of me."

"Good day, then," I said, turning to walk away.

I heard the door close and suppressed a sigh, knowing that she only wanted to be left alone.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	7. Chapter 7

I continued to feel slightly abashed about entering Bella's room during the night. I suppose it was this guilt that led me back to my house to wait out the storm. Much as I wanted to remain in the grove to watch over Bella, I felt she deserved some privacy, if just for one night. There was little chance that anyone would venture out in such inclement weather, so I thought she would be safe and secure in her cozy home.

However, as the night wore on with wind howling and rain pounding outside, my worry returned. I tried to tell myself that Bella was fine, that she was sleeping beneath my warm blanket and was in need of nothing. But then my thoughts cycled back to concern again.

By dawn, the rain had slowed to a drizzle, and I could not rein myself in any longer. Tucking two of the old newspapers into my jacket, I decided to offer them to her. I really had nothing else to share, but felt I needed an excuse to visit her. I donned my mackintosh and headed for Bella's house, forcing myself to walk at a brisk human pace.

As soon as I stepped from the copse, I sensed that something was wrong. However, it took me a few moments to identify what was amiss. I realized that the barn door was partially open. That alone would not be cause for alarm, but Bella's shawl lay on the ground, just outside the door. The morning air was chilly; she would not discard her wrap like that. The cow was lowing mournfully.

I ran toward the barn, flinging open the door. With a gasp, I found Bella crumpled on the floor. Water had seeped in from outside, and she lay in a shallow puddle. Her eyes were closed, and her skin was ashen.

Instantly I was kneeling at her side, listening intently to her heartbeat and breathing. Her heart and respiration rates were faster than normal, despite her unconscious state.

"Bella!" I cried, pressing my fingers over her wrist.

Her pulse was thready, and her skin was cold. Immediately I braced myself for an onslaught of discomfort, my body going rigid at the thought. But I felt nothing. There was no pain, no ache, no sense of fever. I could not understand it. Bella was clearly ill, yet I could not feel it.

Had I lost my extrasensory gift? Perhaps it had faded away as I recovered. The irony was not lost on me. Much as I had despised my gift while I was in the throes of my own illness, now I wished desperately for it to work. It was the fastest way to diagnose Bella.

I would have to rely upon my other senses and the skills I had learned in medical school and during my months in practice. Quickly yet gently I lifted Bella into my arms. She weighed as little as a kitten to me. As I stood, I inhaled deeply to assess her scent. Her own natural fragrance remained strong, but now I could detect the sour odor of infection, too.

Swiftly I carried her to the house and into her bedroom. Her exposure to the cold had left her very chilled, but this condition might be temporary. It was important to remove her wet clothing and begin warming her slowly so that I could evaluate her true temperature. If my suspicions were correct, she could be either hyperthermic or hypothermic; the latter would bode much worse.

I laid Bella upon the bed and grasped the wet fabric at her throat. I realized that she was wearing her nightdress. I tore it away, anxious to get the cold, clinging fabric away from her skin. As her arms were exposed to me, my gaze sought the source of infection. She wore a camisole beneath her nightgown, so I could see the pale flesh across her shoulders and sternum, too. But I saw no wounds. I lifted her so that I could examine her back, but it appeared unmarred. Quickly I pulled the material away from her legs, flinging the sodden garment to the floor. My eyes raked over her feet, ankles, and calves, and thighs.

There, just beneath the hem of her bloomers, two inches above her knee, was a thick strip of linen wrapped about her leg. Blood and fluid had seeped through the layers, telling me that I had found the initial injury.

Her undergarments were damp, too, and needed to be removed, so I covered her with the sheet then ripped the small items away. I used the blanket I had provided to dry Bella's face, arms, and hair as much as possible.

A light cotton chemise hung on a hook beside the door. I reached for it, sliding it quickly over her arms and shoulders to provide her with some additional warmth. I pulled it down over her hips to cover the top portion of her legs.

As I adjusted the garment, Bella murmured something, and her eyelids fluttered. I tucked the blanket around her torso and hips to help her begin warming.

"Bella," I said, my voice sounding tight and hoarse, "it's all right. I'm going to take care of you."

She made a small, pained noise then slipped back into unconsciousness. Her heart rate and breathing were unchanged, but her skin felt slightly warmer now. I suspected that her exposure to the cold had temporarily suppressed her fever, and now it seemed I was correct. Still, I would need to wait to confirm this. My current priority was examining the wound on her leg.

I began unwrapping the bandage but had to pause as the scent of her blood wafted upward, so sweet and alluring. Yet as I inhaled involuntarily, an unpleasant undertone assailed me. Again I could smell the distinctive odor of infection.

When I eased the bandage away, I found a deep cut. The margins were red and oedematous, the tissues swollen with fluid. Heat radiated from the wound; it was very badly infected. I slipped my hands beneath the chemise to examine her inguinal lymph nodes. They were enlarged. I pressed my fingers gently over her abdomen to find the nodes there swollen, as well, but not as significantly as the ones in her groin. I checked the nodes beneath her arms and under her jaw, relieved that they were minimally affected. The infection had begun to spread through her body but appeared contained to the areas nearer the initial injury.

My brief examination confirmed my original suspicion: Bella had septicaemia. I would still need to determine the severity of it, but clearly she was very ill.

As I readjusted the blanket around Bella, my hands hovered over her. Remorse coursed through me. I should have seen the symptoms the previous day. It was all so obvious now: her pallid face with the faint flush of fever; the shuffling gait as she made her way to the door (most likely from this very room where she must have been resting); the weakness in her voice; the heat of her skin. I was a trained physician, and I was a vampire; I should have _known. _

I could have provided treatment then and prevented this grave development. My shoulders slumped as my hand moved to her face. I brushed a few damp strands of hair away from her brow.

"Why, Bella?" I murmured, "why didn't you tell that you needed help?"

She did not respond. I knew she couldn't hear me. But I could not keep from wondering what she had been thinking. The wound would have been swollen, red, and tender yesterday; she must have been feverish for at least an additional day. Hadn't she realized how sick she was becoming? Even if she had felt she couldn't trust me, she could have asked me to go to town to seek assistance for her.

Those questions would need to wait, though. Now it was essential that I begin treating her. However, I did not have the proper supplies here. I could probably make do with a few household items, but I preferred to use more professional instruments that would allow me to perform my tasks to the very best of my abilities.

I was loath to leave Bella, but it was necessary. For a few brief moments I debated taking her with me, but even at my fastest pace, she would be exposed to the cold, wet weather and chill from my body for several minutes, and I knew that would place her at additional risk.

I tucked a second blanket around her then bent to speak softly in her ear.

"Bella, I will be back very soon. You must rest and stay still. I won't be long." I glanced at the watch I always carried in my pocket to find that the time was 8:53 AM.

With that, I dashed from the house, the landscape a blur as I rushed past the copse, the meadow, the woods, finally reaching my home. As I darted to the armoire and flung open the doors, I checked my watch again. It was 8:58. I had never run faster.

I reached for the black Gladstone bag, mentally cataloguing the items that should be inside. I had not opened the case since the day I left the hospital. Indeed, I had left my bag there and recalled vaguely that Carlisle had retrieved it for me some time later. I grasped it and sprinted out the door.

I returned to Bella's house at 9:04. I hastened through the door and into her bedroom. She still lay upon the bed, but she was moving her hands, pushing away the blanket. I deposited my bag on the floor and sat down beside her.

"Ssh," I tried to soothe, placing my hands over hers gently. "It's all right, Bella. You're ill, but I'm going to help you get better. Please don't try to move. Just stay still."

Her eyelids fluttered then opened, and she lifted her head a bit. For a few moments I felt that she was looking at me, but her gaze was unfocused. "Hurts," she whimpered, her voice as small as a child's.

"I know. I'll give you something to help," I assuaged.

She stilled, her head sinking back on the pillow as her eyes closed again. I rested my hand over her forehead. She was definitely running a fever; I estimated it to be 99.5. It would continue to rise as the chill left her.

She moaned softly, reminding me that even in sleep she continued to experience discomfort. I could not bear the thought of her feeling additional pain, and I knew my next actions would prove terribly painful even to her hazy mind. I opened my bag and quickly found a syringe and a vial of morphine. I measured out a low dose, calculated to her slender frame, and administered the injection in her radial vein. She flinched as the needle entered her. A whiff of her delectable aroma tickled my nose.

"Just rest, Bella," I murmured, stroking her cheek for a moment to calm both her and myself.

Soon her body relaxed, and her heart rate and respiration slowed incrementally. I checked her pulse to find that it remained weak but no more so than before. I searched through my bag for a scalpel, swabs, absorbent cloths, and several carbolic acid solutions. Among the latter, I chose the strongest.

I uncovered Bella's leg and arranged several of the cloths under her thigh. I reached for the scalpel; the implement still felt familiar in my hand. After a moment of hesitation, I made an incision over the length of the wound. Immediately blood began to flow, closely followed by fluid. I stopped breathing, focusing my attention on cleaning away the blood then swabbing the open wound thoroughly with carbolic acid.

Bella's eyelids twitched, and her heart beat even faster as I performed this necessary task. Even with the morphine in her system, she was registering some pain.

"I'm sorry," I said, but I did not cease my actions.

I used my superior sense of smell to determine when I had cleaned out as much of the infection as possible. A hint of odor remained, but I was hopeful that a dressing soaked in carbolic acid would remove the lingering traces. I applied the dressing carefully, wrapping Bella's leg lightly to hold it in place.

I could feel her temperature rising as I worked on her. After adjusting the blanket over her again to cover her legs, I pulled a thermometer from my bag and gently slid it into her mouth and under her tongue.

She moved her head and tried to open her mouth, but I kept light pressure over her lips, murmuring my apologies. Her eyes did not open, but the little noises she made told me that she was aware of me on some level.

Her temperature was now 101.3 degrees. Light perspiration shone over her skin. I dashed to the kitchen to saturate a dish towel in cool water. After wringing out the excess, I returned to Bella and wiped the cloth over her face, then folded it to place over her brow.

There was little else I could do for her at the moment. I hoped that she would be strong enough to fight the infection. Her fever showed me that her brave little body was trying. But I did not know if it would be enough.

Bella had not asked for help even when it was available. I recalled the melancholy expressions I had seen on her beautiful face and the somber tone of her hummed tunes. These raised a terribly troubling question: Did she have the will to get well?

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

_**Note: **_The evaluation and treatment Edward provides are based on information I found in a medical textbook from the early 1900s. I have tried to use the terminology of the time, as well, to provide as much accuracy as possible. _  
><em>


	8. Chapter 8

Bella's fever continued to rise as the morning wore on. By early afternoon, it was 103.1 degrees. I applied a fresh dressing to her leg and gently bathed her face, neck, and arms with tepid water. Sometimes I simply rested my palms over her cheeks or hands, hoping that the coolness would ease her discomfort.

She stirred several times, her eyes opening partially as she murmured unintelligible words. But she did not regain full consciousness, and my concerns grew.

At 3:00 in the afternoon, her fever was 104. I pulled away all of the blankets and continued my ministrations with the wet cloths. While her body cooled slightly, her temperature was still much too high.

The administration of quinine was accepted practice in treating septicaemia, but Carlisle and I had debated its usefulness on a number of occasions. We had seen effective results in some patients, while in others we had observed no change or a worsening of the condition. Still, I had few other options available to me. My mind sorted through the possibilities.

I had been intrigued by the theory underlying polyvalent serums, but I had neither the proper equipment nor a suitable subject from which to obtain the blood I would need, so this course of treatment was not possible.

I refused to consider amputation of the limb at this point. While it was very likely that Bella would recover if the infected appendage were removed, I believed that such a course of action would be drastic. She was so young, and I felt she had suffered more than a woman of her tender age should. I could not in good conscience inflict such an infirmity upon her… at least not yet.

I determined that I would try quinine as I continued to treat the wound with carbolic acid. If I saw no improvement by morning, I would consider other options, difficult as they might be.

I had quinine in my bag; it was a standard medication for any physician to carry. I brought a small glass from the kitchen and prepared an appropriate dose for Bella. Then I pressed my hands firmly over her cheeks, hoping the coldness of my skin would rouse her.

"Bella," I said, speaking more loudly than I had previously. "Wake up, Bella. You need to take some medicine."

I chafed her cheeks softly, her skin hot and damp beneath my hands. I spoke her name several more times, and she began to rouse.

"That's it," I encouraged, "just for a minute."

I lifted her head gently with my left hand and slipped the glass between her lips with my right. I tilted the cup, allowing just a few drops to pass into her mouth.

"Swallow," I stated firmly, knowing that the semi-conscious mind often responded best to simple commands.

When the bitter medicine hit her tongue, she flinched instinctively, trying to draw back. However, I held her head steady and tipped a little more quinine into her mouth.

"You need to swallow this, Bella. I know it tastes unpleasant, but it will help you to get better."

One of her hands rose from the bed, trying weakly to push my arm away. I smiled at her ineffectual motion; her touch was as soft as a kitten's paw.

"Mmm unnn," she murmured.

Her small noise of protest did not deter me, either. "Swallow," I said again.

Her eyes opened fully, and for a few moments she stared up at me. I watched her brow furrow and felt her hot fingers brush over my hand.

"Please, Bella," I uttered, "please take the medicine." There were, of course, other ways to administer it, but I did not wish to resort to those. Without thinking, I added, "I want you to get better."

Her throat moved as she swallowed the quinine. I grinned. "Good girl. Now the rest."

She did not fight me, and when she had finished the dose I gave her a sip of water, which she also took without additional protest. However, this small adventure had exhausted her, and by the time I had lowered her head back to the pillow, she was asleep.

I watched her, reaching for her wrist to feel her pulse again. When I had finished, I shifted her hand to rest over my palm, studying the slender fingers and delicate bones beneath. She had tried to challenge me; she had shown a hint of determination. Perhaps she had the will to fight her illness after all.

I lifted her hand to my lips, kissing the warm skin softly.

"Please, Bella," I murmured, "keep fighting. Keep trying to get well."

* * *

><p>Bella's fever remained at a steady 102.9 into the night. I changed the dressing again just after dark. There was no new infection in the wound, which gave me a hint of hope.<p>

I continued wiping her skin with tepid cloths and resting my hands over her face, throat, and shoulders. I spoke to her, too, telling her softly that she would be well again. Sometimes she murmured a word or two; more than once I was certain that she said, "Papa."

Once when my hand was over her cheek I felt a drop of moisture and saw that a tear had leaked from her eye. "Papa," she sighed again. "Don't… go away."

My chest felt heavy as I realized that she was dreaming about her father. I knew nothing about the man, but I thought perhaps I should say something that would ease her fevered mind. Placing a cool cloth over her brow, I stood and quickly searched through the house in the hopes of finding some article that might allow me to utter a few personal words.

An old family Bible sat on the shelf above Bella's chair near the hearth. There were also two photographs: one of a very pretty baby, and the other of a man, woman, and child of three or four. I recognized Bella's beautiful eyes at once. I spared a moment to study her mother's image. She had lighter hair—slightly in disarray—and a more solid figure than her daughter. Her smile appeared forced somehow. The man, Charles Swan, had dark hair and a moustache. His features reminded me of Bella's, particularly the determined set of his chin. I had seen that in her the day I delivered the window pane.

I took the photograph and Bible back to Bella's room. She was resting quietly at the moment, so I sat in the chair beside her bed and opened the Good Book. In the front cover, I found a hand-written list of names and dates—common practice among families as a means of record-keeping. Beside Charles Swan's name the date _July 28, 1854 _was printed in a simple hand. Beneath it, in delicate script, was a second date: _June 14, 1910. _Bella must have added this.

Her name was written in the same basic style as her father's, and the date of her birth was September 13, 1890. I knew now that Bella was nineteen years old and would be twenty soon.

As I set the Bible on the table beside her bed, I noticed a small corner poking out from between the pages. I pulled a dog-earred letter from inside the book. It was composed by a child's hand, and as I quickly skimmed the words I realized that Bella had written it when she was perhaps seven or eight years old.

_Dear Papa,_

_I miss you very much, too. Mama says she loves Boise and that my school is very good. I like it and I am learning about geography and history. Did you know that the ancient Egyptians built giant pyramids? My favorite subject is literature. I am reading all of the books my teacher has! She said I am voracious, and I learned a new word!_

_I hope Mama and I can visit you this summer. I miss you and I love you._

_Your loving daughter,_

_Bella_

The condition of the paper told me that Charles Swan had read and reread this sweet, simple letter many times over.

When Bella began mumbling again, I stroked her cheek with my fingertips and told her, "Your father loved you so much, and I know he thought about you all the time."

"Papa," she breathed.

"Yes, your papa always had you in his thoughts and heart."

She quieted and slipped into a deep sleep.

I administered a second dose of quinine during the night. Bella roused enough to swallow the bitter drug and take a few sips of cool water. As I was lowering her head to the pillow, she opened her eyes fully, her lips forming the word, "Who…"

Perhaps she did not recognize me. "I'm Edward Cullen, your neighbor. It's all right, I'm taking care of you."

"Edward… care," she murmured, then she slept again.

* * *

><p>The darkness was fading as pre-dawn grey crept over the sky. I sat in the chair at Bella's bedside, holding her hand. I had not checked her temperature in nearly two hours, but her skin felt slightly cooler to me.<p>

I reached for the thermometer and slipped it into her mouth. She did not fight me, and soon I had a reading: 100.8 degrees. This was encouraging news to me. I shifted aside the blanket and removed the bandage and dressing. The infection appeared no worse, and my keen sense of smell told me that it was receding. I applied a fresh dressing to continue the treatment with carbolic acid.

Then I slid my hands under her chemise to check her inguinal lymph nodes again. They remained enlarged, but seemed slightly smaller. At best, they were no worse. This was a positive sign. I pulled the blanket up over her hips and lifted her gown so that I could examine her abdomen. I pressed gently over the glands in her pelvis then moved my hand upward to feel the peri-aortal nodes. As I palpated the area carefully, she gasped.

I looked up to find her staring at me with wide eyes. I could see the awareness in her gaze; she was relatively lucid.

Immediately I removed my hand, worried that I had caused her pain. "I'm sorry," I said. "Did I hurt you?"

Her voice barely a whisper, she murmured, "Mr… Mr. Cullen?" She blinked at me, her lovely brow creasing in confusion.

"Yes, Bella. And please, it's Edward."

"What… what are you doing?" She glanced down at her exposed stomach.

I lowered her chemise to cover her. "I was checking your abdomen," I began.

But she interrupted me with a soft query. "Why?"

"The condition of the lymph nodes—" I tried again.

She shook her head. "But why… why are you here?" Her voice, though still lovely, was raspy and weak.

"You've been ill," I tried to explain, reaching for the water glass on the side table. "I've been taking care of you." I moved the glass to her mouth as I lifted her head, and she swallowed a few sips without question.

However, her wide eyes remained upon me. For several moments she studied my face, her head tilted slightly to the side. Then her gaze shifted, following my hand as I returned the glass to the table, next to my black bag. It was open, and I had left the thermometer, carbolic acid, and quinine bottle on the table.

"Yours?" she whispered.

I nodded. "Yes." Suddenly I realized that she did not know of my professional training and experience. I had never told her that I was a physician. "I'm a doctor, Bella."

For a moment I saw a hint of doubt in her expression. Sometimes humans needed reassurance that words alone could not provide. I reached into my bag for my stethoscope, hoping that she would associate the instrument with my profession. Moving with measured slowness, I placed the earpieces in my ears then held out the bell.

"I was just going to listen to your heart," I lied; of course I could hear the organ perfectly without any need for amplification. "Is that all right?"

Her expression still struck me as wary, but she gave a brief nod. I rested the stethoscope over her chest, well above the neckline of her chemise. Her heart rate had slowed slightly since she had awakened, and it remained steady. I lifted my head and smiled at her.

"You're getting better," I told her, setting the stethoscope beside my bag. "How do you feel?"

"Tired," she replied drowsily. Her eyelids were beginning to droop. "My leg… hurts."

"Yes. But I'm treating it, and it is improving."

She lifted her hand, letting it drop to her stomach. "Better?" she asked sleepily.

I did not understand her query at first. I watched as her fingers moved over the area where my hand had been when she awoke. She seemed to be inquiring about the results of my unfinished examination.

"It can wait, Bella," I replied. "Just rest now."

"Mmmn," she seemed to protest. "Want to know… is it better?"

"I'll check later. I don't wish to cause you any discomfort," I began, recalling quite vividly her reaction upon waking.

She exhaled a sigh, and her hand moved to rest over my arm. "You won't…hurt me." Her eyes closed completely, and her final three words would have been inaudible to human ears. However, I heard them quite clearly: "I trust you."

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

_**My wonderful friend Marrabelle has provided some beautiful illustrations inspired by this story. Please see my profile for links if you are interested in viewing her lovely work. **  
><em>


	9. Chapter 9

I remained at Bella's side through the morning, continuing to wipe her skin gently with a damp, cool cloth or stroke her cheek and brow with my fingers. This seemed to comfort her; her breathing and heart rate always slowed at my touch.

I knew her fever had lowered somewhat. The quinine was working. She would need another dose soon, however. I also wanted to obtain an exact temperature reading. Her sleep had been sound for several hours, and I hated to disturb her. Restful slumber was important for healing, and disrupting it was somewhat counterproductive to her recovery.

Shortly before noon I measured out the quinine, deciding that I might be able to administer it without waking her fully. I slid my hand under her head, lifting it slowly as I placed the glass between her lips.

"Bella," I said, my voice soft now, "it's time for your medicine. You can go back to sleep as soon as you've taken this." I rubbed my thumb over her cheekbone.

Her eyelids quivered, then she opened her eyes fully. "Edward?" she rasped quietly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to wake you, but you need to take this."

She gave a nod of consent, and I tipped the glass to administer the dosage. Her nose wrinkled at the taste, but she did not balk, swallowing the medicine obediently. I gave her half a glass of water when she was done. I lowered her head back to the pillow and began tucking the blanket around her shoulders again.

"Thank you," she said softly.

I gave a nod of acknowledgment then reached for the thermometer. "I want to check your temperature again. All right?"

"Yes," she whispered.

I slipped the small instrument into her mouth and pulled out my watch to check the time. I had thought she might return to slumber as soon as she had taken the quinine, but her eyes remained opened, watching me. Her expression seemed to be an interesting combination of curiosity, gratitude, and something I could not easily identify. I sensed no anxiety or fear, however.

We sat silently for perhaps half a minute before Bella's gaze flicked to the watch in my hand. It seemed she wished to ask me something. She lifted her hand to touch the watch face, then she glanced out the window.

"Do you want to know what time it is?" I asked.

She nodded.

"It's twelve minutes past noon." She seemed to expect more, so I added, "On Thursday."

Her eyes widened, and she began to open her mouth, but I pressed a gentle finger over her lips and shook my head in kind admonishment. "Not yet," I said. "Yes, it's Thursday."

This news appeared to cause her some distress. I heard her heart speed up, and a small crease appeared between her delicate, dark eyebrows. She must not have realized that she had been unconscious for a full day.

"I found you yesterday morning," I told her. "You were in the barn, Bella. You had fainted…" I decided to omit the more graphic details. "I've been taking care of you since then."

She was becoming visibly anxious, her eyes moving to the window repeatedly.

"Just another minute," I said, hoping to calm her. "Then you can ask me whatever you like."

Was she worried about the treatment she had received? Or was she experiencing some additional discomfort? Of course her leg hurt. I could administer another small dose of morphine with relative safety now that she was a little stronger… and she would need to eat, too—I would prepare something for her, perhaps broth…

I checked my watch again then removed the thermometer from her mouth. Her lips were very dry, but I could not help but notice how perfectly shaped they were. My eyes flicked to the thermometer, and a smile spread across my lips. Her fever was now 100.6.

"Your fever has come down," I began.

"Callie," she blurted out.

"Pardon me?" I asked.

"Callie, the cow. Have you milked her?"

Until this moment, I had almost forgotten that she owned a cow. "No," I replied. Yet even as I spoke, I could hear the animal lowing. I had been so focused upon Bella that the poor creature's sounds had not even registered with me.

"Oh, she must be miserable!" Bella pushed herself up onto her elbows and tried to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. She only moved them a few inches before I stopped her.

"Bella!" I cried softly. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I have to milk Callie." She seemed on the verge of tears.

"Absolutely not. You need to remain in bed. You're still ill, and your leg needs time to heal."

"But—"

I stood. "I'll see to Callie."

She calmed immediately. "Oh, thank you, Edward."

"Promise me you won't move?" I requested.

She nodded. Satisfied that she was in no immediate danger, I hurried out to the barn. I paid little attention to the weather, aside from noting briefly that the rain was gone but the air was chilly. I would need to be certain that Bella was warm enough.

Callie was not a happy animal. She was very uncomfortable, and my initial efforts to alleviate her plight were not terribly successful. While I understood the anatomical structures well enough, I required repeated attempts to comprehend precisely how they functioned. Callie snorted, stomped, and mooed as I fumbled, trying not to cause her additional distress.

Finally my fingers found the right motions to extract the milk. I filled the pail beside her stall then stood from the low stool. She gave me a baleful look, probably grateful that I had eased her discomfort but displeased with my technique. I would have to ask Bella for pointers so that I could perform the task more smoothly the next time.

I gave Callie several generous scoops of oats, noting that the bag was nearly empty. Then I picked up the pail and went back inside. I set it on the kitchen window sill, where it would remain cool. Later I would prepare some tea for Bella and put a little milk in it.

Bella had managed to sit up, though her cheeks were flushed with the effort. Immediately she asked, "How is Callie?"

I rested my hand over her forehead to check that her fever had not increased. "She's feeling better now, I think."

"Thank you," she said again as I lightly pressed my fingers over her wrist. Her pulse was much steadier and somewhat stronger than it had been earlier in the day.

I gave her a smile. "It was no trouble. I'm sorry I didn't think of it sooner, although I'm not sure I would have been comfortable leaving you."

"How…" She paused to glance again at the items on the table. "How sick was I?"

"You were very ill," I replied, my expression sobering. "The wound on your leg was badly infected, and the bacteria spread throughout your body. It caused septicaemia."

Her mouth formed a little 'O'.

This news obviously surprised her. It seemed she had not realized how very sick she was. I wanted to ask her about this, to find out why she had not requested my help when she had the chance, but she was still very weak. This was a discussion for another time.

I continued gently, "And, while you are doing better, you aren't well yet. So I want you to rest and try to sleep some more. In a little while I'll prepare some tea for you, and perhaps some broth to help you regain your strength."

She nodded, and I helped her settle down on the pillow again. I needed to change the dressing on her leg within the next hour or so, but I decided to let her rest until then. In the meantime, I would try to prepare a light soup for her.

"I'm going to the kitchen," I told her. "I may have to leave for a few minutes, but I won't be gone long. If you need anything, just say my name; I'll hear you."

"All right," she replied quietly.

I walked out of her room, resisting the urge to glance back at her. In the kitchen I found some dried beans and rice, flour, sugar, honey, coffee, and tea. A trapdoor led to a small root cellar, where there were several half-empty bushels of apples, turnips, carrots, and onions. No wonder Bella was so slight; she subsisted on very little. I would see that this changed. A proper diet was important to maintaining good health, after all.

There was nothing I could use to prepare broth, so I slipped out the door and into the copse, where I caught a rabbit within a minute or so. I cleaned it before I returned to the house. While I was quick and neat, a few streaks of scarlet stained my hands. I felt I should remove this before I went inside again.

I walked around the back of the house to the pump, splashing water over my hands until my skin was clean. As I straightened, something bright caught my eye. The sun was reflecting off of a jagged a piece of glass propped up against the side of the building. Beneath it lay several smaller fragments. One had a thin, rust-colored smear across the sharp edge.

I bent to examine the glass. A faint but distinct aroma met my senses; the stain was Bella's blood. I realized now that she had replaced the broken window on the front of the house with the pane I had brought her. She must have dropped the old pane as she was removing it or carrying it away. I ran my finger along the edge, just beneath the blood, then lifted it to my mouth. I tasted traces of bacteria. This, I believed, was the instrument of her injury.

My chest felt heavy as I recalled her polite refusal of my offer to replace the glass for her. If only she had allowed me to do this small, insignificant task, she would be well and unscathed now.

I sighed and lowered my head, pinching the bridge of my nose for a few moments to calm myself. In those seconds, I vowed that I would not allow any harm to come to her again.

Returning to the kitchen, I busied myself in preparing the broth, listening to Bella's heartbeat and breathing as I worked. She was sleeping again, quite soundly it seemed. Once the meat was simmering in a large pot of water, I set the kettle on the stove to heat water for tea.

I made a weak brew, infusing the leaves for only half a minute. I added a scant spoonful of sugar and a larger spoonful of milk to the china cup I recalled seeing Bella use. I placed it on a saucer and carried it to her room.

I would let it cool while I attended to her leg. I debated whether or not I should wake her. I knew that the carbolic acid stung, particularly when first applied; I could recall feeling this pain a number of times as I treated patients with infected wounds. Now that she was past the deep unconsciousness of fever, the discomfort would certainly wake her, which could prove distressing.

I placed my hand upon her cheek and spoke her name several times. She stirred but did not awake fully.

"Bella," I said, bending to speak close to her ear, "I need to change the dressing on your leg. It's going to be uncomfortable, and for that I apologize."

She opened her eyes. Our faces were only inches apart. She inhaled slowly then smiled.

"You smell good," she murmured.

I knew I did, at least to humans. I moved back, dismissing the comment. There was no reason to draw her attention to my preternatural characteristics.

"How are you feeling?" I responded instead.

"A little better, I think."

"I'm glad to hear it. It's time to apply a fresh dressing to your leg." I folded back the covers.

Bella glanced down for just an instant then looked toward the window. "All right," she said softly.

I unwrapped the bandage and removed the dressing. The wound looked better. While the edges remained reddened, and some swelling persisted, it was improving gradually. I smelled no new infection.

I soaked a swab with carbolic acid solution. Bella watched my motions, her eyes upon the bottle and my hands.

"What is that?" she asked.

"Carbolic acid. It's quite effective in fighting infection, but it will sting when I apply it. I can give you some morphine if you like."

"Won't that make me sleepy?"

"Yes."

"No, thank you."

"Are you certain, Bella? A very small dose will dull the pain but shouldn't put you to sleep completely."

"I think I'd rather stay awake." She lifted her chin just a fraction of an inch.

The motion was utterly endearing. "All right," I agreed, pleased by her little show of spirit. "I'll work as quickly as I can."

She nodded, and I began swabbing the wound. Immediately she tensed, and her heart thrummed quickly in her chest. A little gasp escaped her.

"Just a few more seconds," I said.

Her breathing was ragged now. Concerned, I looked up. She was pallid and was beginning to perspire.

"Bella?" I questioned.

She closed her eyes tightly as her small hands gripped the edges of the mattress. "I'm all right… keep going."

I completed my task then placed a new dressing over the wound and wrapped a bandage around it. She was still breathing irregularly, and her heartbeat remained rapid. I disposed of the used items in an old cloth bag I had employed for the purpose, then reached for the vial of morphine and a syringe. I would not allow Bella to suffer a moment longer.

Her warm fingers wrapped around my wrist. "No… wait."

"Bella, you're in pain. There's no need for that."

I looked at her closely. She remained pale, but a hint of color was returning to her cheeks. Her heart was slowing, and she seemed to be breathing more evenly.

"No, it's all right. Just give me a moment. Please."

I waited, the vial and syringe still in my hands. After half a minute I set the items aside and took her wrist between my fingers. Her pulse was fairly steady.

She inhaled slowly then exhaled as a rosy blush spread over her cheeks. I realized that she was embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," she said with a small shake of her head.

"There's no need to apologize, Bella," I replied quickly. "If anyone should feel regret, it is I. I should have administered morphine before I treated your leg—"

"No, Edward, that's not it. It wasn't the pain that bothered me. Actually that's what kept me coherent."

I was confused. What had just happened? "I don't understand," I began.

She sighed and looked down at her hands, now clasped loosely in her lap. "It was the blood," she said quietly.

The wound had bled minimally when I swabbed it. "Do you have an adverse reaction to blood?" I asked, knowing that some humans became faint at the sight of it.

She nodded reticently. "The smell always makes me feel ill."

"The smell?" I repeated. "But humans can't smell blood."

She lifted her eyes to give me a brief, yet quizzical, look. "I can. It smells like salt and rust." Her lovely little nose wrinkled as she said it.

I was fascinated with this small bit of information. It was extraordinary for a human's olfactory system to be so sensitive. Then again, I was beginning to have the sense that Bella Swan was a rather extraordinary young woman. Suddenly a thought occurred to me.

"When you cut your leg," I said, "you must have had a very difficult time handling it."

She nodded but declined to provide details.

"The wound was caused by the window pane, wasn't it?" I asked.

She blinked at me in surprise. "How did you know that?"

"I saw the pieces outside. There was blood on one of them."

"Oh, of course. It fell on me when I was removing it."

"I wish you had permitted me to do that for you," I replied.

She shook her head. "I couldn't have imposed upon you like that."

"But I wanted to. I wouldn't have offered if I hadn't been sincere."

Her beautiful eyes studied my face for several seconds before she responded. "I hardly knew you. I still know very little about you."

I settled in the chair at her bedside and handed her the cup of tea. "What would you like to know?"

She took a sip, closing her eyes for a moment as the warm liquid passed down her throat. "Mmm," she murmured, then she looked up at me and asked pointedly, "How did you find me in the barn?"

This was a perfectly reasonable question. She had no idea that I had been watching over her, serving as her sentry during the long, dark nights. A plausible explanation came to me quickly, and it was, in part, the truth, which pleased me. For some reason, the idea of lying to her bothered me.

"When I brought you the blanket on Tuesday," I explained, "I thought you looked unwell. You told me you were fine, but I was worried. So I returned yesterday morning to be certain you were all right. That's when I found you."

"It was very kind of you to come back to check on me," she said, blushing anew.

"It was my pleasure, Bella, and I am so glad that I did." These words were absolutely honest.

She reached over to place her hand upon mine. "Thank you, Edward."

I responded with a smile.

"I suppose I should consider myself extremely fortunate that a doctor is my nearest neighbor," she said, her fingers curling around my hand.

"I believe it is I who have the good fortune to be _your_ neighbor," I responded, stroking the soft skin on the back of her hand with my thumb.

She drank a little more tea, which pleased me. We were silent for a minute, but I could see that she was thinking; her brow furrowed prettily. She lowered the cup, and I set it on the side table for her.

"Are you planning to start a practice in town?" she asked.

I do not know why this question came as such a surprise to me; it was a perfectly logical query. But I faltered for a few moments, unsure what to tell her. Finally I settled on the truth once again.

"No," I replied, "not at this time."

"But you're such a skilled doctor," she protested mildly. "And there isn't one in Madras. The nearest one is in Bend…" Her voice trailed off, and a look of deep sadness washed over her face.

I recalled that the shopkeeper had mentioned this fact as she shared that Bella's father denied the need to travel to the larger town to consult the physician there.

"I'm not able to practice anymore," I said carefully.

"I don't understand…" She glanced down at her leg, obviously thinking that I had been perfectly capable of treating her.

"I was ill, Bella," I tried to explain. "I am still recovering, actually, and the demands of a practice would likely cause a relapse. I'm not able to consider that right now."

"Ill?" she repeated. "Is that why your hands are so cold?"

I cleared my throat to avoid the inappropriate chuckle threatening to erupt. "I have some circulatory issues," I replied.

"I'm sorry." She reached for my hands again, pressing them between her warm palms. "Have I made it worse?"

"Worse?" Her questions seemed to perplex me relentlessly today.

"You spent the last two days taking care of me, and I'm sure you barely slept—your eyes look tired." She lifted her hand to touch my cheekbone very lightly. "I'm so sorry I put you though that."

"It's fine, Bella. I'm used to staying away for long stretches. It doesn't bother me."

"But you should rest now. I'm feeling much better, and I'm sure I won't need anything for hours."

Her concern for me was touching, and I knew I would need to pretend to comply with her request for the sake of appearances.

"All right," I agreed.

"You can use my father's room," she said, "if you don't mind…"

I smelled a hint of salt and realized that tears were forming in her eyes. She was sending me to the bed in which her father had died.

"That will be fine," I said with a small yet grateful smile. "Thank you, Bella."

I helped her to lie down and get comfortable, tucking the blankets around her. Without thinking, I bent to kiss her forehead before I left.

"Rest well," I told her.

"You too."

I stopped in the kitchen to check the broth, making sure the fire was very low, then walked slowly toward the doorway beyond the small parlor. This was the one part of the house I had not been in, and I was curious to see what I might discover about Charles Swan, and possibly his daughter, by having a look in his room.

I closed the door but kept it ajar so that I could hear Bella as clearly as possible. The room was furnished simply, with a basic, iron-rail bed, a night table, and a chest of drawers. The furniture was the type sold in general stores: relatively sturdy but unadorned, the same as that in Bella's room.

A hand-sewn quilt covered the bed, the surface smooth and wrinkle-free. I visualized Bella's hands arranging the covering after her father's burial. I was sure her beautiful brown eyes had filled with tears as she completed this necessary task. How tragic that she had gone through the difficult time all alone.

Another photograph of Bella sat on the bedside table. She was older in this one, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, a very pretty young woman just emerging from childhood. An old, battered pocket watch sat on the table, too.

I eased open the top drawer in the dresser to find neatly folded clothing inside. Several well-worn cotton and wool work shirts and a pair of shabby denim trousers lay in the drawer. All were clean, and I imagined this was Bella's doing.

In the second drawer I found threadbare long underwear and undershirts, socks, and a nightshirt. These items were also laundered and arranged tidily.

The third, and final, drawer contained various papers, including the deed to the property; receipts for seeds, grain, and a few pieces of farm equipment; and a small stack of letters in the hand I now recognized as Bella's.

I reached for the envelopes but stopped myself. While I wanted to know as much about her as I could, I recognized that reading the letters she wrote to her father was an invasion of her privacy. I had stumbled across the first one, and I didn't regret opening it; I felt the information I had shared had helped to calm Bella. But the rest of her letters would remain untouched by my hand.

Atop the dresser were a comb and shaving equipment. A small mirror was mounted on the wall. For a moment I studied my reflection. Bella's observation about my eyes was correct, although the dusky smudges were not as pronounced as they might have been. Still, I had not fed in several days—nearly a week, now that I thought about it—and would probably need to hunt soon.

When I had been working at the hospital, Carlisle and I had hunted every third day. The frequency was precautionary, but we both felt it better to err on the side of caution, particularly on days when we performed several surgeries or treated certain types of wounds.

Abruptly it occurred to me that I had faced little difficulty with my exposure to Bella's blood, despite the alluring fragrance of it. In part, I supposed this was due to the infection, which affected her scent significantly. Still, her natural perfume remained beneath the surface, and now that she was beginning to recover it was growing stronger. Yet I felt little temptation. Perhaps I had simply suppressed it due to my anxiety over her condition.

I looked away from my image, lifting the comb to run it under my nose. I was curious about the cause of Mr. Swan's death. Part of it was professional interest, but I held a lingering worry about inherited conditions that could affect Bella in the future.

I smelled nothing unusual on the comb, but as I studied it I saw that it had been wiped clean; not even a fine bit of hair remained. I suspected that Bella had washed it after her father's demise. Again a feeling of sadness washed over me as I thought of her performing this small task alone.

There was little else to examine in the room, so I sat upon the bed listening to Bella's heartbeat and breathing for a long time. Eventually I went into the kitchen to remove the pot from the stove. The broth was ready, and I planned to give her a small bowlful as soon as she awakened.

While I knew that she still slept soundly, I could not resist walking silently into her room to rest my hand gently over her cheek. She was still slightly feverish, but her temperature was no higher than before. I wanted to check her lymph nodes again, but this would need to wait until she woke, as she would undoubtedly stir at my cool, probing touch. I did not wish to startle her.

I wandered back into the small parlor to look at the single bookshelf. There were several volumes of poetry—Keats, Tennyson, Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning, and Shelley—as well as three of Jane Austen's novels, two by Emily Bronte, and older works by Shakespeare and Bunyan. I recalled the satchel of books that Bella had carried on the train; she must have brought these with her.

I pulled _The Pilgrim's Progress _from the shelf and returned to Bella's room to settle in the chair at her side. I read until she began to stir, then I slipped out into the hallway. I ran a hand through my hair and rumpled my shirt before reentering her small chamber.

"Ah, you're awake," I greeted her, smiling languidly in my attempt to appear slightly drowsy.

"You, too," she replied, returning my smile. "But you still look tired and pale. How long did you sleep?"

Now it was necessary to lie. "I lay down just after I left you, so…" I consulted my watch. "Three hours."

"You need to sleep some more, Edward," she said, concern clear in her expression and tone.

"I will. How are you feeling?"

"Better, I suppose." She rubbed a hand over her cheek and studied a few strands of hair that hung over her shoulder.

She must be feeling grimy. She had been so ill, perspiring heavily, for over a day. Perhaps there was something I could do to help her feel just a bit better. I excused myself and hurried to the kitchen, where I heated some water then poured it into a pitcher. I carried it back to her room, setting it on the floor as I took the wash basin and soap from her dresser.

"I thought you might like to wash your hands and face," I said. "I've brought warm water."

Her eyes lit up. "Oh yes, thank you, Edward."

I set the basin beside her. I poured a little water over her hands then gave her the soap. After rinsing her hands, I helped her to pull back her hair, tying it with a ribbon, so that she could wash her face.

Once she had dried herself, she smiled up at me. "That feels better." She touched her hair again, her expression a little wistful. "I suppose this will have to wait."

"Would you like me to brush it for you?" I asked immediately.

She gave me a curious look then assented with a small nod. I untied the ribbon then got her hairbrush from the dresser. Her hair was matted, so I worked the brush gently through the strands. After a few minutes her hair was smoother and softer.

She ran a hand over it. "Thank you."

I felt that she was forever thanking me, and it was completely unnecessary. I was glad to do whatever I could for her.

"You're welcome," I replied, setting the brush on the dresser. I took the thermometer from my bag and held it out. "I should check your temperature again."

"Fine," she agreed, opening her mouth for me.

I stood and reached for the pitcher and basin. "I'll be back momentarily."

She nodded agreeably, touching the edge of her closed lips with her finger. The gesture made me grin; it was wonderful to see a bit of humor from her.

I emptied the water and ladled some broth into a bowl, retuning just in time to remove the thermometer. Her temperature was 100.2.

"Your fever hasn't risen," I informed her gently, "but your body is still fighting against the infection." I lifted my hands to her neck, where I felt the glands carefully, noting that they were not enlarged.

"I need to check under your arms, too," I said, folding back the blanket to her hips. She sat quietly while my fingers probed softly, squirming a bit when I reached the outer portion of her left axilla. "Is this tender?" I asked.

"No… I'm just a little ticklish." She smiled sheepishly as a hint of rose crept over her cheeks.

I smiled. "Ah, I see. That is, fortunately, not a terribly serious condition."

She giggled, undoubtedly relieved by my lighter tone. I moved my hand to hover over her abdomen, and she gave me a slight nod. With the lightest touch possible, I examined the peri-aortal and pelvic glands, pleased that the swelling had diminished. Her scent was purer, too. Her glorious fragrance came through above the smell of the infection in her blood. A tiny trace of venom tickled my throat, and I swallowed.

"Is it better?" she asked, her tone slightly anxious. I realized I had been immersed in my thoughts for too long.

"Oh," I replied quickly, "yes, quite a bit. However, I'd like you to continue with the quinine for a little while longer."

"Whatever you feel is best. You're the doctor." She gave me an inscrutable grin.

"What I feel is best now," I replied, feeling the need to do something entirely mundane, "is for you to take some broth."

"All right," she agreed.

I moved to sit near her shoulders then picked up the bowl and spoon. I fed her about half of the liquid before I saw signs of fatigue.

"I think that's enough for now," I said pleasantly, setting the bowl aside. "You need to rest some more."

"You, too," she said as she slid down to rest her head upon the pillow. "You're still so pale."

I administered the quinine then made sure she was comfortable. Again she told me that I needed to sleep, and I left her room wondering exactly when our roles had begun to shift and she had become my protector.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

**_Wow, that was a long chapter! I hope no one minded. _ :)_  
><em>**

**_ I want to thank all those kind readers who have reviewed this story. __Your feedback and support keep me posting! _**


	10. Chapter 10

Bella slept quietly for two hours before she began to murmur and thrash weakly. I was in the kitchen adding ingredients to the broth to make a light soup for her, but when I heard her stirring I hurried to her room. Had her fever risen again?

Anxiously I rested my hand over her cheek. She was warm, but not dangerously so. Still, I suspected her fever had increased slightly, not an uncommon occurrence with an illness of this nature.

"Sshh," I tried to soothe, stroking her cheek.

But she continued to turn her head from side to side, and her hands moved beneath the blankets. "No… don't go… please, Papa." She began to sob tearlessly, her frail body shaking with the effort.

I could not permit this to continue. I pressed my hands over her cheeks, knowing she would sense the coolness at some level.

"Bella," I said, "it's all right. It's just a dream. Wake up, sweetheart."

"Papa," she muttered, another sob trembling through her.

I rubbed her cheeks vigorously, repeating her name a little more loudly. Finally her eyes opened, and she blinked up at me in confusion. I realized that it had grown dark outside; my own eyes functioned nearly as well in dimness as in full illumination, but her human eyes would see only the duskiness.

"It's Edward," I told her. "I'm right here, and you're all right. You were dreaming."

I turned away for a few moments to light the lamp, casting soft glow over the room. Before I could turn back, she clutched at my arm, holding on as tightly as her weakened grasp would permit.

"Edward," she whispered. "Edward…"

I shifted to face her, placing my hand over hers. "Yes, Bella."

"It was so real," she said very softly, her lower lip quivering. "He was gone… and I was… all alone."

"Sshh, my sweet girl, you're not alone now."

She looked up at me, pleading in her eyes, and without thinking I gathered her into my arms, holding her tenderly and stroking her hair. I felt her heart thumping and the soft warmth of her body against my chest.

Her breathing began to slow; she was calming now. However, I continued running my hand over her hair and kissed her brow softly.

"I'm warm, Edward," she finally said, her tone apologetic as if she were confessing a transgression.

"It's all right," I replied. "Your fever has crept up just a bit; it's nothing to worry about."

I began to ease back, but her little hands grasped at my arms. "Please," she whispered.

She wanted me to continue holding her. I pulled the blanket up to wrap it around her partially, not wanting to expose her to the full chill of my body. Then I scooted back so that I could lean against the headboard and place my legs upon the mattress. I adjusted Bella in my arms, her head on my shoulder.

"Would you like to tell me about your dream?" I questioned gently. "Sometimes talking about it helps."

She did not respond immediately, but after a few seconds she said, very softly, "It was about my father."

Her heart sped up a little, so I changed tacks, not wishing to upset her. "Would you tell me about him?" I asked.

"He was quiet and kind," she began. "He was the deputy for the township when I was little."

I made a small noise of encouragement, and she continued.

"People respected him, I think. He was fair and compassionate, even if he wasn't loud about it."

"Yes," I murmured.

"He loved my mother so much."

"And you, too."

She nodded. "He did. I wish I had come sooner…"

I felt she should tell me her own story, so I did not reveal that I knew something about her past. "How long have you been here?"

"I came at the end of May. An old friend, Angela from the store, wrote to me and informed me that my father was ill; she was very worried about him. I didn't know, he hadn't told me, and I hadn't seen him in several years."

"Where were you living?" I asked.

"In Albion; it's near Boise. My mother and I moved to Boise to live with her parents when I was four. My mother…" A small sigh escaped her. "She was never happy here. She's a dreamer, always imagining what could be and trying to find the illusive 'it,' whatever that might be. She felt like there was nothing more to discover here, and she was so unhappy. I remember her crying… And then her parents said she could come to Boise and stay with them, and my mother took me with her, saying it was just for a little while, just for a visit, but after a few months she decided to stay."

"Did you ever visit your father?"

"Yes. We would come every summer when I was younger, but my mother was miserable while we were here… The last time I came, before this May, I was sixteen. I traveled alone, and I spent two weeks with my father."

"That must have been lovely for both of you," I commented.

"It was. My father was the kind of person you can just sit with without speaking, but it's fine; you both feel comfortable."

"I understand." I truly did. Carlisle was like that, too. While we often spoke at length and for hours on end, sometimes we simply walked in the woods or sat exchanging few words. There was not always a need to speak.

"Then I moved to Albion to attend the Normal School—"

"You studied to become a teacher?" I interjected, fascinated by the thought of Bella pursuing higher education.

"I did. I was going to finish this December, but then I received the letter about my father…"

"Perhaps you can complete your studies in the future," I suggested.

"Maybe."

"Did you consider returning for the fall semester?" I inquired gently. I was curious to know why she had remained here after her father's death.

She sighed again. "No, not really."

"Why not, Bella?" I questioned softly.

"My mother…" She swallowed, and I heard her heart flutter. "She got married last month." She paused for a few moments, swallowing again. Her voice was very quiet now. "She had known him for a long time, but as soon as I wrote her about my father's passing…" She swallowed thickly. "She and Phil were married within the week."

"Oh, Bella." I kissed her forehead again. Her mother's behavior clearly pained her.

"I don't want to go back," she whispered.

"Do you… not like him?" I inquired hesitantly.

"No, Phil is a nice man. But seeing her with him, the way she acts, like a smitten schoolgirl… She was never like that with my father."

I understood now. "Do you plan to remain here indefinitely?"

"I don't know. I want to fix the place up, but there's still so much to do." Her voice was growing weaker; she was becoming quite sleepy.

"I'll help you any way that I can," I offered.

"Mmm… thank you, Edward." I felt her body relax completely against me and knew she had fallen asleep. I wondered how much of our conversation she would recall in the morning.

I lay with her in my arms for a long time. Eventually I heard Callie lowing and realized that she needed to be milked again. I eased myself away from Bella slowly. She whimpered softly, and I tucked the blankets around her more securely.

"Sleep, love," I murmured, pressing a light kiss over her cheek.

She sighed and stilled, and I reluctantly slipped away.

* * *

><p>Bella grew more feverish during the night. I bathed her face with cool cloths again and changed the dressing on her leg. She roused briefly to take another dose of quinine but returned to slumber quickly. I worried that I had tired her by engaging her in conversation. I would be more cautious tomorrow.<p>

She woke at first light. Her skin was cooler, and her eyes were clear. I sat at her bedside with a book in my hands, but I had read few words. I smiled at her when her gaze moved to my face.

"Good morning," I greeted softly.

"Good morning," she replied.

"How are you feeling?" I rested the back of my hand against her cheek.

"Better… quite a bit better," she replied, seeming to make a quick inventory of herself.

"Your fever has gone down," I told her. "I think we're past the worst of it."

She pushed herself up onto her elbows, and I helped her to sit up fully. "I'd like to get out of bed," she said.

"Do you feel strong enough?" I asked.

"I think so. It's just for a few minutes." Her cheeks grew pink.

I realized that she had human needs to attend to. "Let me help you up," I said, standing. "I should milk Callie, and then I'll prepare a bit of breakfast for you."

She nodded. "Thank you."

"My pleasure."

I disliked the thought of leaving her, particularly knowing that she was still very weak. But she appeared rather determined, and when I got her to her feet she was relatively steady.

I left her, closing the door behind myself but waiting in the hall until I was certain she would not fall. I hurried to the barn to attend to the cow then returned to check on Bella again. She was sitting on the bed, her expression difficult to read.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

She looked up at me, her brow furrowing. "Yes…" She gazed at me with an intensity I had never seen from her before.

Her expression worried me. She did not appear to be in pain, but I felt that something was troubling her. "Are you certain?"

She looked away. "Yes, Edward."

Suddenly I realized that she must be concerned about the chamber pot in the corner. Without discussion, I walked to it and picked it up, carrying it from the room. Surely she had not planned to clean it herself, in her condition?

I returned a few minutes later with a cup of tea rich with milk and sugar. Bella had gotten underneath the covers again but remained sitting with her back against the headboard. I offered her a smile, but her expression remained serious. A small crease pulled her lovely brows together.

I handed her the cup. Her warm fingers brushed my hand as she took it, and she seemed to stiffen for a moment. Her heart was beating a little faster than normal. Had the movement hurt her?

"How does your leg feel?" I asked.

She blinked at me, requiring a few seconds to respond. "Oh, it's fine—about the same."

Her cheeks were pale, so I did not believe she was feverish again. However, I rested the back of my hand against her forehead to check. She pulled back a little.

"I'm all right," she said with a small frown. She lifted the cup to her lips, her hand slightly unsteady. Her gaze never left my face.

There was something familiar in that gaze, something I had seen before and felt I should recognize. But it seemed like so long ago…

"Could you give me a little time?" she asked softly.

I was not sure what she meant. "Pardon me?"

"I'd like a little time to myself," she clarified. Her eyes flicked to the table, where I had left _The_ _Pilgrim's Progress. _"I think I'd like to read."

"Oh. I would be glad to read to you," I began, thinking how enjoyable such a pursuit would be. I imagined the charming expressions that would cross her face as she listened to my words…

"No, thank you," she said a bit stiffly.

"Are you certain? It would be my pleasure—"

"Really?" she interjected.

"Yes, Bella, of course. Whatever I can do to make you feel more comfortable—"

"Why?"

Again, her question caught me off guard. "Why?" I repeated.

"Why would you want to? Why do any of this?" She gestured toward her leg.

"You were injured and ill," I began. "You needed help, and I wanted to help you."

She set the cup on the table and reached for the book. I accepted this as her cue that I should leave, so I took a step back and bowed my head slightly.

"I won't be far. Just call me if there is anything you need."

She nodded and opened the book. Her hands still quavered a little, and her heartbeat had not slowed significantly. As I backed toward the door, she looked up once more, and now I recognized her expression. It was wariness.

"Excuse me," I murmured, hurrying toward the kitchen.

I did not know what to do. My mind reeled. I remembered a patient I had treated shortly after I began my professional career. I was not as practiced with humanity as Carlisle was, and something in my manner had aroused a vague suspicion in the elderly man. While his body was frail, his thoughts remained sharp and his eyes clear. He had looked at me just as Bella had, dubiousness clear upon his face.

Carlisle had warned me to be vigilant of such reactions. They could snowball into questions and inquiries that neither he nor I could afford if we wished to maintain our positions at the hospital. The repercussions could extend beyond our professional lives, too, and that was a risk neither of us wished to take.

I had told him about the old gentleman's reaction immediately, and he had accompanied me back to the patient's room, where one of us had remained nearby for the next seven hours so that we could hear anything he might say to a nurse or another physician. He did not voice his suspicions, however, and that night he passed away. The crisis had been averted, but I was still shaken by it.

My reaction now, however, was much stronger. Bella was not yet well enough to be left alone; her wound required continued care, too. Possibly I could take her into Madras and find someone to look after her, but I wanted her to be under medical supervision until she was stronger. And, if the truth were told, I could not bear the thought of her in someone else's hands. No one would take care of her as solicitously as I would.

But what choice did I have? If she voiced her suspicions as humans were wont to do, questions would arise, and others would become aware of those subtle differences their minds had not fully processed the first time they met me…

"Edward." Bella's soft voice summoned me from my ruminations.

I had been standing in the kitchen doorway, unaware of my surroundings, but I turned and hastened back to her room. For one instant, my instincts urged me to pause before entering, but I could not resist her gentle call, so I stepped inside.

"Yes?" I asked, my voice sounding slightly strained.

"You heard me," she said with a small, unfathomable smile.

"I was just in the hallway," I tried to explain. "Do you need something?"

"Would you still be willing to read to me?" she asked.

I studied her countenance. A hint of wariness remained, but she appeared more relaxed. Her heart had slowed, and a faint brush of color tinged her cheeks. I was utterly perplexed by her, but I could not deny her anything.

I sat down in the chair beside her bed, and she handed me the book. I noticed it was closed.

"Where did you stop?" I asked.

"I didn't even begin. Please start where you left off."

I opened the book and read a page, glancing up at her periodically. In point of fact, I did not need the words before me; I had read the book twice and could recite it from memory. But I refrained, knowing such a feat would not help in my quest to alleviate Bella's doubts about my nature.

When I paused to draw a breath at the top of the next page, she stopped me.

"Edward."

I looked up at her. "Yes, Bella?"

She gazed at me pointedly. "Would you tell me something?"

If my heart were able to beat, it would have thrashed violently. I feared her question and its implications. What would I say? How could I respond? I nodded woodenly, steeling myself for the dreaded words.

"Where were you born?" she asked.

I blinked in surprise. This was not what I had anticipated. "Chicago," I replied. "On the North Shore, actually, in a town called Wilmette."

"Do your parents still live there?"

Pleased and relieved that I could be relatively honest with her, I replied, "No. They are both deceased."

Her brow furrowed. "Oh! I'm so sorry. May I ask... how long has it been?"

"Several years. I was still in school when it happened. They both became ill during a widespread outbreak of pneumonia."

"Edward, I didn't know…" I could hear sincere sorrow in her tone.

"It's all right," I said, closing the book softly. "Please don't feel badly. You had no way of knowing. It was kind of you to ask about them."

I detected a hint of saltiness and saw that her eyes were bright with tears. "Did you… were you on your own after that?" she asked.

"No. A friend—a physician with whom I had studied—took me in. I lived with him until I moved out here. I consider him a second father."

"What's his name?"

"Carlisle."

"He must be a very compassionate person," she commented.

"He is—I believe he is the most compassionate individual I have ever met."

"He passed that on to you," she said softly.

A single tear crept down her cheek. Without thinking, I reached for my handkerchief and gently dabbed it away.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "I didn't mean to make you sad. I would never wish to see you unhappy." Undoubtedly the mention of my parents' deaths reminded her painfully of her father.

She shook her head.

"I was insensitive," I attempted in apology. "I should have realized what I was saying—"

"No, Edward, it's not that…" She sniffed and pressed her hand beneath her nose. "I just… I suppose I'm a little overwhelmed right now."

"Of course you are," I said gently. "You've been ill, and you're still tired and weak." Then, keeping my voice as even as possible, I added, "I'm so sorry if I've upset you in _any_ way." I hoped she would accept the subtext of my simple words as the absolute truth.

Her eyes widened slightly, and her heart fluttered. "I—no, you haven't…" she stammered. Then, her voice steadier, she said, "You've been nothing but kind."

"You bring out the best in me," I replied sincerely.

She smiled, but I could tell that she remained curious. "When did you finish medical school?" she asked. "Were you in practice long?"

"I graduated a little over a year ago. I practiced for ten months before I… became ill."

"And you are still recovering," she said kindly. "It must have been a very serious affliction."

"I'm past the worst of it," I responded.

My eyes moved to her slender hand resting over the covers—the same hand I had taken in her doorway—the hand that had been insensate to me, revealing nothing of her pain. And in the ensuing days, from the terrible morning when I had found her lying in the barn to the times I cleaned and dressed her wound or felt her brow for fever, I had sensed nothing. My mind was peacefully mute, my body blissfully numb. It was a wonder to me. Touching Bella was a revelation in absolute serenity.

"I believe I am close to a full recovery," I added.

"But you don't feel you can practice anymore," she reminded me gently.

"Not now… perhaps someday," I replied slowly, considering the question. "I feel better than I have in a very long time."

"You're a wonderful doctor," she said. "I know…," her voice dropped to a whisper, "that you saved me."

I remained concerned about her silence that day when I had brought the blanket, but this did not seem the appropriate time to question her about it.

"No, Bella," I correctly mildly, "it is you who saved me."

She shook her head in minor confusion.

"I didn't believe that I could practice again," I explained. "I had no intention of trying. But when I realized that you needed help, I didn't even think about my reservations. It all came back to me, as naturally as ever. You showed me that I can still use the skills I've learned—that I'm strong enough now."

Neither of us spoke for several moments. Finally I remembered that I had promised her breakfast. I stood, telling her that I would bring her something to eat soon. She thanked me, and I returned to the kitchen, much less anxious than I had been less than an hour before.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	11. Chapter 11

That night I slipped out to hunt. While I felt completely in control, I was noticing the alluring scent of Bella's blood more with each passing hour. It was time to sate my thirst. Fortunately I did not have to go far; there was ample game in the immediately vicinity. After feeding on a buck and disposing of the remains tidily, I returned to Bella's house.

I listened for her heartbeat the moment I stepped inside. The thumping was fast. Was she awake? I moved silently to her room, peeking inside. She lay with her back to the door, so I could not see her face. However, I could hear her gentle respirations and decided that she still slumbered. Perhaps another bad dream had touched her mind briefly.

I stood in her doorway for a long time. I felt I would never tire of watching her or of listening to the small noises she made in sleep. I was fascinated and charmed by her humanity. Everything about her captivated me.

I did not move until she began to turn over. Then I darted out into the hallway and reluctantly went to the parlor, where I read until dawn. The moment I heard Bella stirring, I walked back to her room.

I waited until I was certain she was awake then knocked lightly on the door frame.

"Come in," she said, her voice still husky with sleep.

"Good morning," I greeted her, smiling as she pushed her tousled hair away from her face.

"Good morning," she replied, cocking her head to the side as she studied me. "Did you sleep?" she asked, her tone tinged with surprise.

"I had a good rest," I replied rather obliquely, preferring not to lie outright.

"You look better. Your eyes… The darkness is gone."

I decided it best not to allow her to delve into this subject, so I said, "You're looking better this morning, too. How do you feel?"

"Definitely better. I think I'd like to try getting up for a little while, maybe going into the kitchen to eat?"

I was very pleased by this request. However, I would not push her beyond the limits of her delicate body.

"Let me check your temperature and change your bandage," I replied. "Then we'll see what the rest of the day brings.

She sat quietly and calmly as I slipped the thermometer into her mouth. While waiting for it to register, I reached for my stethoscope, deciding that listening to her heart would seem a very human thing to do. I kept my motions measured as I adjusted the ear pieces and rested the bell gently above the top edge of her gown. I listened for thirty seconds then gave her a smile.

"Your heart sounds very strong," I informed her, eliciting a pleased grin from my precious patient.

Her temperature was 98.9, almost normal. I still wanted her to rest, but I felt that a change of scenery would not harm her, as long as she did not become chilled. I removed her bandages and checked the wound. It was healing well, and nearly all signs of infection were gone. Still, I cleaned it assiduously and applied a fresh dressing.

"Edward," she asked as I smoothed her chemise over her leg, "would it be all right if I bathed?" A light blush crept over her cheeks.

"I'd prefer that you keep your leg dry," I replied. "But I'll bring you some hot water and towels if you'd like to wash."

"Oh yes, please." She sounded relieved.

I heated two buckets of water and carried them to her room along with several towels. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, but she stood slowly as I set down the water. I observed her for several seconds to be certain that she was relatively steady on her feet. She wavered slightly, so I gestured toward the chair.

"It might be best if you sat while you bathed," I suggested.

She gave a nod of agreement and sank down in the chair. I made certain she had everything she needed then stepped out of the room and shut the door. As I prepared her breakfast, I listened intently to the small sounds coming from her bedroom. I heard little splashes, the light swish of the washcloth as it moved over her skin, her heart beating fairly steadily, the breaths that entered and left her lungs. After some time, she stood and shuffled across the floor to open a drawer. Fabric moved, and I surmised that she was dressing.

A low clatter made me rush into the hallway. "Bella?" I called anxiously, prepared to enter her room if she did not respond immediately. Had she stumbled or fallen?

"It's all right," she replied. "I just knocked my brush onto the floor. I'm fine."

Still, her heart rate had increased. So I remained where I stood, alert to any indication that she needed my help. After several more minutes, she emerged from her room. She gave me a shy smile as she pulled a shawl around her thin shoulders.

She had put on a long-sleeved, flannel nightgown. Fine lace edged the neckline and cuffs of the pale blue fabric. Her hair was brushed and tied back with the sapphire ribbon she'd worn the first day I saw her. I suppose to a stranger she might have appeared slightly wan and haggard, but to me she was a vision of loveliness.

I moved toward her and slipped my arm through hers. "Permit me to escort you to the kitchen," I said.

She giggled softly as I led her down the hall.

Bella sat at the table and ate as I watched anxiously. Her appetite was not terribly strong, but she managed to finish half a bowl of soup and a glass of milk.

I had prepared a good fire in the parlor, so after her meal I helped her to her favorite chair, which I had moved as close to the hearth as possible. She sat, smiling softly in the warmth.

"Would you like me to read to you again?" I offered.

"Yes, please," she responded.

I hurried to her room to retrieve _The Pilgrim's Progress_ then sat at her feet. I opened the book, but before I could utter the first word I felt her fingers brush over my hair.

I glanced up at her. She was studying my crown, her hand hovering over my head.

"Your hair is such an unusual color," she commented softly. "It's almost like bronze in the firelight."

"My mother's hair was the same color," I replied.

"What was she like?" She took a quick breath then added, "If you don't mind my asking."

"Not at all." I set the book aside and drew up my knees to rest my hands upon them. This seemed a fairly human pose to me. "Her name was Elizabeth. She was a wonderful mother—always encouraging, very loving and understanding."

"She must have been proud of you."

"I think she was." In truth, my memories of her and my father—of much of my human life—were hazy. But I did remember her pride in my accomplishments, as well as her sincere love for me.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" she asked.

"No. I was my parents' only child."

"That's something we have in common," she said with a little smile.

"It is," I agreed.

"And we both live out here in the wilderness… and I think we both prefer it?" She asked the question tentatively.

I nodded. "I required solitude," I admitted. "After my … illness, I needed to be alone for awhile."

"I felt the same," she said quietly, hesitantly. "After my father passed away, I didn't want to be around people. I didn't want to hear them express their sympathy anymore or give me those looks… It just made it worse." She looked away, her gaze moving to the fire.

"Did you get to spend much time with him?" I asked gently.

She sighed, and I detected a hint of saltiness when I inhaled. I had caused tears come to her eyes.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I don't mean to pry or to bring up sad memories—"

"It's all right, Edward," she said. "I don't mind. I think I'm ready to talk about him, to remember him, now." She swallowed and returned her gaze to me. Her eyes were very bright. "He was so weak and thin when I arrived; he had lost a lot of weight. But he'd been dragging himself out to the barn every day to milk Callie and feed the horse. I had him go straight to bed and told him I was going to Bend for the doctor. But he wouldn't hear of it. He told me he'd be fine, that he just needed some rest. I wanted to believe him—I didn't want to accept that he was that ill—so I agreed for a few days. But he got worse, weaker and paler, and he wouldn't eat…"

My medical training spurred me to ask, "What other symptoms did he have?"

Her pretty brow furrowed. "He wasn't one to complain, but I know he'd been having leg cramps and headaches, and sometimes he would breathe really fast and sort of deeply… I'm not quite sure how to describe it." She thought for a few moments. "Sometimes it seemed like his arms or legs were hurting him. He had some stomach pains, too."

"Did he urinate frequently?" I asked, my clinical curiosity overriding any need for propriety.

She nodded. "And sometimes he had an odd sort of sweat dried on his skin."

"What did it look like?"

"Sort of like frost. Does that make any sense?"

"It does. It's a symptom of uremia, which occurs when the kidneys can no longer remove wastes from the body."

"His kidneys stopped working?"

"I think so. Much of what you're describing is consistent with kidney failure."

"What… what would cause that?"

"The other symptoms are typical of diabetes. Do you know what that is?"

She nodded. "Yes. A student I knew at college had it." A tear dripped down her cheek, and she swiped it away.

"Bella, there was nothing you could have done to save him."

"Are you sure? What if I'd brought the doctor—"

I took her hand in mine. "No. By the time you got here, it was too late. You kept him comfortable, and you were with him during his last days. That's exactly what he needed."

She choked back a sob as tears flooded her eyes. "I'm sorry…" she murmured.

I rose to my knees and pulled her into my arms, glad that the fire had warmed my clothing. "It's all right, Bella."

I felt her little body tremble, then the floodgates opened, and her emotions poured forth. I held her tenderly while she cried. Her sobs were quiet, but I felt the tears soaking my shirt. I rubbed softly at her back and kissed her temples, and after some time her breathing began to steady. Finally she drew back, her cheeks and nose red.

I removed my handkerchief and dabbed softly over her dampened skin.

"Thank you, Edward," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I smiled gently.

"I thought it was my fault," she continued very quietly. "I thought there must have been something I could have done…"

"There wasn't," I assured her.

She nodded. "I know that now." She took my face in her small, warm hands and kissed my brow. "Thank you," she repeated, pulling her hands back to rub at her swollen eyes.

I could see that she was tired. An emotional catharsis was draining for any human, but even more so for one who had been ill.

"Perhaps you should rest now," I suggested benignly.

She sighed. "But I've been in bed for days. And the fire is so nice and cheerful."

I grinned thinly as an idea struck me. I stood and walked to the small settee against the far wall. Pretending that it was heavy, I dragged it across the floor then pulled Bella's chair back to make room for the sofa before the hearth. She laughed as her chair bumped over the wooden floor.

Once I had situated the settee, I brought a quilt and pillow from her father's room then helped her to move to the little couch. I expected that she would lie down to rest her head upon the pillow I had placed at the end, but she remained sitting, looking at me expectantly.

"Yes, Bella?" I inquired, hoping I was interpreting her expression correctly.

A faint blush crept over her pale cheeks. "Would you sit with me?"

"It would be my pleasure."

I sat down beside her and wrapped the blanket around her. She leaned her head against my shoulder, and in less than a minute her breathing slowed and evened out as she fell asleep. Her limbs loosened, her head drooping, so I placed the pillow in my lap carefully arranged her so that she lay with he head upon the pillow and her legs on the cushions. My fingers ran over her hair, resisting the urge to trace her cheekbone and nose. She was so lovely, so delicate… And in her presence I felt utterly content, completely calm, and fully cognizant. Was it possible that she had healed me?

I lifted her hand to kiss it gently. "Thank you, Bella," I whispered.

She made a little murmur, and a small smile twitched at her lips. While her heartbeat and breathing remained unchanged, I felt that she had heard me.

"Sweet dreams, love," I said softly. "Only the sweetest for you."

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><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	12. Chapter 12

I read to Bella after she woke. She seemed to enjoy sitting quietly beside me in the warm glow of the fire as the words flowed from my lips. I had to concentrate to keep my eyes upon the pages rather than on her beautiful face. Her soft, contented smile was one of the most charming things I had ever seen.

She returned to the kitchen in the afternoon to eat some more soup. Her appetite seemed to be improving incrementally, for which I felt grateful. However, the question she posed to me while she ate was slightly unsettling.

"Aren't you going to have any?" she asked. Her tone was innocent, but I saw a hint of suspicion in her eyes.

"I had something earlier," I replied, attempting to keep my voice steady.

"While I was sleeping?"

I nodded.

"That was quite a while ago," she said.

I shrugged. "I suppose my appetite isn't quite what it was before I became ill."

"But you need to eat, Edward. You have to keep up your strength!" Now she truly appeared concerned.

"I'm fine," I assured her, forcing a smile.

She frowned prettily. "You're still awfully pale."

"Mmm," I murmured noncommittally.

She took another spoonful, swallowing slowly, then looked up at me again. "You've been here for days. Do you need to go home?"

I had not thought about my small house at all during the time I had been here. There was nothing there that I needed, with the possible exception of my violin. I wondered if Bella would enjoy hearing me play. Perhaps it would entertain her.

"I don't have any livestock, and I haven't attempted a garden yet," I replied, "so there's really no urgency for me to return."

Indeed, the thought of being away from Bella, even for an hour, left me utterly bereft. I had not considered until now that I would need to leave her at some point. I could not remain here indefinitely…

"Still," she continued gently, "you might want a change of clothes or something."

I glanced down at my attire. At the moment I wore only a white shirt, dark trousers, socks, and boots. I had removed my jacket and vest when I had first begun treating Bella. I suppose I did appear rather rumpled, with my sleeves rolled up and my shirt untucked.

"Yes," I agreed. "I apologize if I'm unkempt."

She smiled. "I don't mind, Edward. I just thought you would like to use you own things." Her gaze lowered slightly. "I'm sure you'd prefer your own razor…"

Oh! She assumed I had borrowed her father's shaving implements. My complexion was, of course, completely smooth. I had not grown facial hair since I was changed.

"I'm sorry," I stammered. "I should have asked if it was all right to use your father's razor…"

"I don't mind," she said, "and he wouldn't, either."

"Thank you, Bella. And you're right. I should return home for a few items. But I don't like the thought of leaving you alone." This last part was the absolute truth.

"I think I'll be all right," she replied. "If it helps you worry less, I'll stay in bed while you're gone."

These words did, indeed, alleviate some of my anxiety. I had been concerned that she might not wish me to return.

"That would ease my mind," I agreed. "I shouldn't be gone long… only an hour or so."

"How far away is your house?" she asked.

"About a mile," I replied.

"I'd like to see it some time."

"Really? It's not much—"

"But it's yours."

Touched by the sentiment, I smiled. "It is."

She finished the soup, and I made certain that she was comfortably settled in bed with several books, water, and an extra blanket near by. While the rational part of my mind assured me that Bella would be fine for a scant sixty minutes, the more emotional part fretted. In the end, the latter won out, and I dashed away the moment I was in the copse.

I reached my house in less than ten minutes and hastily gathered a few items. I stuffed two shirts and a pair of trousers into a valise, along with my comb. I did not own any shaving supplies, of course, and determined that I would need to purchase some if Bella did indeed visit my humble abode. I had learned to remember the trappings of humanity during the time I spent with Carlisle. He and I were always careful to be seen at the local mercantile and druggist's purchasing various items that human men would need.

I had considered bringing some newspapers to Bella at one time, and now I decided that she would indeed enjoy them, so I placed them in my valise, as well. I also took my violin from the armoire, and I selected several books I felt she might like.

I returned to her house at a sprint, stopping in the grove to consult my watch. I had been gone for twenty-one minutes. This was not long enough, I realized, so I waited impatiently in the shelter of the trees. The minutes dragged by, tormenting me with their sluggishness. Finally, when another twenty-six minutes had elapsed I emerged and forced myself to walk at a brisk human pace toward the house.

I stepped inside, calling out, "Bella, I'm back."

She did not respond, which both surprised and concerned me. I dropped my bags by the door and hurried to her room. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, pale and perspiring. Her heart was beating rapidly, and her breaths came in little pants.

"Bella," I cried, "what's the matter?"

She shook her head. "I just… " She was struggling to steady her breathing.

"Sshh, it's all right," I soothed, sitting down beside her to take her wrist. Her pulse was racing. She had clearly over-exerted her frail body. "Just take slow breaths," I encouraged, placing my other hand over her back.

After a few minutes, her pulse slowed and her respiration became more even. I helped her to lie down.

"What were you doing?" I asked. I could not fathom what would have left her in such a state.

"I… I wasn't tired, so I thought I'd… do a few things around the house…"

"Oh Bella," I said, shaking my head, "you only need to ask me. I'll do whatever you like."

"Anything?" she asked.

"Of course. Anything at all."

She gave a small nod. I lifted my hand to her face, feeling her skin to see if her fever had increased. Fortunately it had not, but I resolved to be extra cautious with her. She could easily suffer a relapse, and that was something I wished vehemently to avoid. I had come so close to losing her already…

"Did you…," she began diffidently, "get everything you needed?"

"I did," I replied.

She nodded, seeming to relax slightly. She was clearly exhausted.

"Why don't you rest for a little while," I suggested. "I should attend to Callie and start some supper for you."

"You won't eat?" she asked.

"Oh… I had something at my house. I had a few things in the pantry…"

"Of course," she murmured. Her eyelids lowered, and she exhaled a sigh.

I left her to sleep. After milking the cow and changing my clothes, I took out my violin and readied it for playing. A melody was forming in my mind, and I was eager to attempt to reproduce it upon the strings.

I slipped outside to catch another rabbit then prepared a simple stew for Bella with the meat, carrots, onions, and potatoes. She had been sleeping fitfully, and I had checked on her repeatedly to be certain she was not feverish or in pain. She stilled each time I entered her room, but her restlessness returned shortly after I left.

When I heard her begin to stir in earnest, I ladled some into a bowl and carried it to her room.

She did not protest when I told her that I felt it best that she remain in bed for the rest of the evening. She was still a little paler than I liked, and her temperature remained a degree above normal. She had definitely overtaxed herself.

She ate only a few bites of stew before setting it aside.

"Are you not hungry?" I asked with concern.

"It's not…" She looked up at me, an apologetic expression upon her face. "It's not very appetizing."

"Are you nauseated?"

"No, Edward. I just-" She cleared her throat. "You don't really know how to cook, do you?"

This caught me completely by surprise. I had checked the meat and vegetables to be certain they were fully cooked. The meat was brown throughout, and the carrots and potatoes were soft. Wasn't that the way stew should be?

Still, I had clearly done something wrong, so I replied, "No, not very well, I'm afraid."

"You don't cook for yourself," she stated.

"No. I tend to rely on other items." I paused for an instant to fabricate something plausible. "Canned goods, mostly."

"I see."

I gestured toward her bowl rather miserably, knowing I had failed her. "Is it completely inedible?"

"No. It just needs some salt and pepper."

"Oh! I can do that." I shot to my feet and hurried to the kitchen, returning with the seasonings.

Bella added a bit of each to her bowl and took a few more bites. Still, her appetite was lacking.

"Is there something else I can make for you?" I asked. "Under your guidance, of course."

She smiled thinly. "Maybe some tea. I like the way you prepare it, with milk and sugar."

At least I had done something right. After she had finished the tea, I excused myself and returned shortly with my violin. Her eyes widened at the sight of it.

"Do you play?" she asked.

"Yes. I have for many years. I thought… I mean, perhaps you would enjoy…" Suddenly I felt shy. "Would you like me to play for you?"

"Oh yes," she replied, a sincere smile lighting up her face.

"Is there anything in particular you'd like to hear?"

"I enjoy Brahms," she replied. "Do you know any of his works?"

"I believe I do," I said, and my hands seemed to move of their own accord as I played the Concerto in D.

When I finished, I looked up to see an expression of awe upon her beautiful face.

"Was that all right?" I asked.

"Oh Edward," she breathed, "that's one of my favorites. It was wonderful."

"Thank you. There is something else I'd like to play for you, if you don't mind."

"Mind?" She laughed. "No, I don't mind at all!"

The melody that had formed in my mind now flowed from the strings, sweet and gentle, with poignant undertones that eventually shifted into more dulcet strains.

Bella's eyes were half-closed as she listened, an expression of contentment settling over her. When I had played the final note, she opened her eyes to blink at me.

"What was that?" she asked. "It was so beautiful. I've never heard it before."

"It's your lullaby," I replied.

"You… you wrote that for me?"

I smiled. "Actually, it sort of wrote itself."

"It's the loveliest melody I've ever heard," she said.

"Of course it is. It's yours."

It took a moment for the significance of my words to reach her, but when they did she pressed a hand over her heart. "Thank you, Edward."

"The pleasure is truly all mine."

I played several more songs for Bella, but she wanted to hear her lullaby again, so I finished with that. As the final strains faded softly away, her eyes closed and she drifted into a deep, sound sleep.

* * *

><p>Bella did not stir until dawn. Her restful slumber seemed to benefit her. In the morning her temperature was normal, and her wound was healing very well. It seemed her appetite was returning, too.<p>

She explained how to prepare a dish consisting of potatoes, onions, salt, and pepper fried in lard, and, while it smelled repulsive to me, I dutifully followed her instructions. She sat at the table and ate the entire serving I'd placed in her dish. Granted, it was a small portion, but the fact that she consumed it all heartened me.

After breakfast, we moved to the parlor. Once again I had made a fire, and the settee remained before the hearth. We sat side by side, and I offered her one of the newspapers I had brought.

She took it eagerly, skimming the headlines then reading the date. "This was published the day before I left Boise," she said. "Do you remember the date that you traveled?"

"It was May 27," I replied.

"Did you come by train?"

I nodded. A smile spread across her face as her eyes widened slightly. "Edward, I think we may have been on the same train!"

"We were," I replied. "Do you recall stumbling as you boarded?"

She lifted her hands to her face. "A kind man helped me…Oh! That was you! I knew you looked familiar the first time you stopped by here, but I couldn't place you."

"I felt the same way."

"When did you realize it?"

"Shortly after we'd spoken."

"You should have said something! It's such a coincidence."

"It is," I agreed. "Or maybe it's serendipity."

A little grin quirked the corners of her mouth. "Perhaps. 'There are more things in heaven and earth…'" she murmured.

"'…than are dreamt of in your philosophy,'" I finished, easily recalling the line from _Hamlet._

Bella's smiled faded, and her expression became serious. She took a slow breath. "Edward," she said earnestly.

"What is it?" I asked.

"You said yesterday that you would do anything I asked."

"Yes, of course," I agreed immediately. It was true; I would do her bidding to the ends of the earth.

"Then I want you to tell me something."

She looked directly at me, her gaze utterly penetrating. I felt she could see into my very being.

"Bella," I began, suddenly anxious about the direction the conversation was going.

She lifted her hand. "Please, Edward. I need to know."

My own gaze was pleading; the knowledge she sought would devastate us both. She would feel terror first, revulsion next, then she would send me away. And my departure would break me utterly, leaving me irrevocably shattered.

She placed her warm little hand over mine. I did not understand the gesture. Clearly she suspected something, yet she did not appear afraid.

"It's all right," she said gently. "It doesn't bother me. I just need to know."

"Know what?" I managed, my throat very tight.

"What you are."

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><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	13. Chapter 13

**_Note:_** _Here is the next chapter, a bit early... I will be traveling for the next week so probably won't get a chance to post again until I return. But I promise I will continue posting regularly once I'm back. Thank you for your patience!_

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><p>I sat mutely for several seconds, unsure what to say. Bella placed her other hand against my chest. I could feel the heat of her skin and the pulsing of her blood; she was so completely alive and human, in such stark contrast to my unchanging, preternatural body.<p>

"Your skin is always so cool," she said. She moved her hand up to run her fingertips over my cheek. I had to fight against the deep, pleasurable shiver that coursed through me. "You don't need to shave; your beard doesn't grow. I know because I checked in my father's room. His razor and basin were untouched, in exactly the same position I'd left them."

I was still speechless. She pressed a finger gently over my lips, her voice soft as she said, "You don't eat, at least not that I've seen, not here with me."

She continued her tender analysis, lowering her hand to rest it upon my wrist, on the exposed flesh beneath my rolled-up cuff. "Your skin is so firm—almost hard—and when the sunlight shines on it, there's a sort of sparkle—"

I gasped slightly at this. When had she seen my unnatural complexion in the sun?

"The first time you went out to milk Callie," she explained, clearly attuned to my thoughts, "I saw you through my window. It shocked me at first, but then I decided it was just a trick of the light, or some strange illusion caused by my fever. But I saw it again the next day when you were outside, and I knew I hadn't imagined it."

"Bella, I—"

She touched my lips with her warm fingers again, silencing me. "You're impossibly fast," she continued. "When you went to your house yesterday, you were gone only twenty minutes. I saw you in the grove when you returned. You waited there for another twenty minutes so I wouldn't know how quickly you had been able to travel." Her hand moved down to press over my chest. "And one last thing… you have no heartbeat, at least not once that I can discern."

"I'm sorry," I said wretchedly. How had I been so careless? Now she knew that I was not human; she knew I was, in my deepest being, a monster. I began to pull back so that I would not alarm her further.

"No, Edward, don't." She caught my wrists. "I'm not afraid of you. I was at first, just for a little while, but then I realized that you are the kindest, gentlest, most compassionate being I have ever met. I know you would never hurt me, and I trust you completely. I've never felt such a sense of benevolence or such a strong connection with anyone…"

Her hands wrapped around mine, and in her expression I saw nothing but affection and curiosity.

"I just need to understand," she finished. Her voice was calm, almost serene. "Edward, tell me what you are."

I could deny her nothing. But I was unsure how to begin. Once again, she helped me.

"Is it your _illness_?" she prompted. "Is that what made you like this?"

I shook my head, finally able to find my voice. "No, not in the way you're thinking. My illness was related to my… condition, but that's not what caused me to be the way I am."

She waited, understanding that I required some time to gather my thoughts. I remained uncertain about where to start.

After nearly a minute, she asked softly, "How old are you, Edward?"

"Twenty-two," I replied.

"And how long have you been twenty-two?"

"Since 1898."

She nodded. "Then let's begin there."

I took a breath. "I was in my last year of medical school. I told you that my parents contracted influenza and died, and that is the truth. However, I didn't tell you that I fell ill, too. I had met Carlisle a few days before when he gave a lecture at the university. By happenstance, he was the physician on duty when I took my parents to the hospital. I recognized him immediately; he is very distinctive—almost impossibly beautiful, pale, with a voice like silk—"

"Sounds familiar," she murmured, then smiled at me to continue.

"He admitted my parents and me. He remained at our sides night and day, doing all that he could, but we were too ill; none of us would survive. He had been alone for a very long time, and there was something about me that spoke to him, that somehow made him want to save me, as it were. So he did. He took me home and, at the last moment, just before my heart stopped, he changed me; he made me what he is."

"And what is that?" Our eyes met.

Almost of their own accord, the words slipped from my mouth. "A vampire."

She blinked twice. "Like in Mr. Stoker's novel?"

The publication and popularity of _Dracula_ had been something of a joke between Carlisle and me, but at least it gave me a place to begin.

"Have you read it?" I inquired.

Bella nodded. "My mother bought it; she's always had a fascination with the occult and the supernatural."

"Then you know what my kind is—what we do."

"Mr. Stoker described vampires as the undead… creatures who haunt the night and drink blood."

"Human blood," I amended.

"But that's just a book, a work of fiction," she protested mildly.

"It is, and many parts of it are utter fabrications. But Stoker got the basics right. We are, for all intents and purposes, immortal, essentially indestructible, and we do require blood."

"Human?" Her tone was inquisitive, but I sensed no fear.

"For most of my kind, yes. But Carlisle is different. He has never consumed human blood. He has subsisted on the blood of animals since he was changed nearly 300 years ago."

"And you followed him in this?"

"I did."

"But it goes against your basic nature?"

"It does."

"Is it hard to resist?"

"For me, no."

She arched an eyebrow at this. "But for the others—and how many are there?"

"There are hundreds, thousands probably, and according to Carlisle, they find our lifestyle utterly perplexing and completely ludicrous. They prey upon humans, but they manage to do it clandestinely; they maintain a great deal of secrecy. Their most basic tenet is to avoid exposure to the human world…"

This fact seemed to confuse Bella. She pursed her beautiful lips as she considered it. "But you and Carlisle are among humans all the time… You're both doctors."

I nodded and tried to explain. "He wanted to save lives, to atone for the sins of the others. The compassion he has developed is astounding. He would never harm a human, and he derives great pleasure from helping them."

"And you followed in his footsteps."

"Yes." My brows pulled together.

Bella traced the crease lightly. "Was it the blood that made it difficult for you? Is that what happened, what made you… ill?"

She must have thought I had slipped, that I had fed from a human. Yet she showed no indication of being afraid. I was in awe of this astounding young woman.

"No, Bella," I said. "It wasn't anything like that. Some of my kind develop special abilities after they are changed—Carlisle believes it's a magnification of talents or sensitivities we possessed as humans. The transformation enhances everything: our physical appearances, our intellects, our senses, our strength and speed… For me, there was something else, too."

The memories remained painful for me, but Bella's gentle, encouraging expression mitigated the discomfort to a degree. I drew another breath and continued.

"Even as a child, I possessed a strong, vivid imagination. As a human medical student, this helped me to develop excellent diagnostic skills. I could imagine what was happening within the patient's body and almost feel it in my own. After I was changed, I found that I could truly experience the physical sensations of others—pain, nausea, fever—"

"My God," she whispered, apparently more stunned by this revelation than by the truth about my nature.

After a few moments, I spoke again; it seemed there was no need to hold back any longer. "It seemed like a gift at first. After my initial, primal urges died down, I found that I could identify illnesses and injuries simply by touching the patient. And experiencing the pain they felt helped me to quell any residual cravings I had. I knew—truly _knew—_how it would feel if I were to hurt a human."

She nodded. "Yes."

"Carlisle and I both felt that my gift would be invaluable, allowing me to diagnose and save many patients who might otherwise have been lost. So after a time, I decided to return to medical school and become a physician. He and I worked side by side for nearly a year…"

"Oh Edward, it must have been unbearable!"

Her perceptiveness astonished me. "At first it was tolerable. I was thrilled to be able to identify patient's maladies so easily, and I suppose the praise I received from the other physicians fueled my ego a bit and ameliorated the distress." I smiled mirthlessly. "But yes, as time went on, as I felt the suffering of more and more humans, it became increasingly difficult. Finally it… it broke me."

Tears welled in her eyes. "So you had to get away, find solitude out here."

"Yes. And I did."

"But I…" She choked back a sob. "Oh Edward, I made you feel pain again! I'm so sorry!"

She bowed her head, remorse radiating from her small frame.

"No, Bella," I cried softly, gathering her into my arms. "You don't understand. I never felt any pain or discomfort when I touched you."

She looked up at me as I cupped her cheek in my hand. "You didn't?"

"No, not physically. Of course it pained me to see you suffering, but the experience was purely emotional and psychological. I think my gift is gone. Maybe my illness destroyed it; I don't know. But one thing of which I am certain is that the time I've spent with you has healed me completely."

"It has?" Her eyes were bright with tears.

I smiled at her, knowing my own eyes would be damp it if were possible. "Being able to touch you, to feel your skin against mine without fear of pain, is a different kind of gift. You cannot imagine how wonderful it has been."

"So when you told me you might be able to practice again, that's what you were talking about—the fact that your gift has gone away."

"Yes. Helping others brought me great pleasure, and I would very much like to do it again, particularly in an area where there is no one to provide such care." My gaze flicked to the photograph of Bella and her parents. If there had been a physician in town when Charles Swan first became ill, perhaps he would still be alive…

"Oh Edward, that would be wonderful, when you feel you're ready."

"I think it's something to consider."

"You know I'll help you in any way that I can."

I studied her eager, accepting face. "You are a delightful mystery to me," I said in wonder. "You don't even blink when I tell you that I'm a creature out of the most terrifying legends—a being whose very nature dictates that he kills—yet you are stunned when I reveal that I was able to experience the physical feelings of others."

"You have shown me nothing but absolute kindness and tenderness," she explained. "How could I perceive you as anything other than the gentlest creature alive? But knowing that you subjected yourself to unbearable pain in your efforts to help others is nearly unbelievable."

I shrugged. "I did my best with what I was given," I said. "I never really considered anything else."

"I know."

From anyone else, this simple acknowledgment would have sounded trite. From Bella, I recognized that it was simply the truth.

"Did you play violin when you were human?" she asked.

I grinned as I confessed, "I did, but I play better now."

Her curiosity was piqued, and she had many questions. "You said your senses are enhanced. In what ways?"

"My visual acuity is far superior to a human's. I can see perfectly clearly in nearly absolute darkness," I replied, "as well as over great distances. My sense of smell is extremely precise; I can identify many diseases simply by analyzing the patient's scent. I can also distinguish among a vast array of organic compounds—"

Bella's cheeks were suddenly aflame. "I'm sorry!" she nearly gasped.

"For what?" I asked, bemused by her reaction.

"While I was ill, I must have smelled terrible!"

I chuckled. "No, Bella, you smell delightful to me, more so than any other human I've met."

I did not think it was physiologically possible, but her blush deepened. "Really?"

"Yes. And your heart has the loveliest rhythm…"

"You can hear it?"

"I can, quite clearly, in fact. If I listen carefully, I can pick up Callie's heartbeat, too."

She frowned at this. "Then why use the stethoscope on me?"

"Mmm…. Partially out of habit, and partially to appear more human."

She had additional questions, but most centered on the more mundane details of my life with Carlisle. I told her about Esme and shared my relief at the knowledge that I had not left him alone.

"Do you think he'll change any others?" she asked me.

I thought it an odd question, but then again, she had a tendency to surprise me. "I don't believe so. He was overcome with guilt after he changed me, worrying that he'd done the wrong thing, that he'd condemned me to an existence I never chose. He felt the same after he changed Esme."

"But you've both adjusted well and have no regrets," she suggested.

"That's true. Still, I think it would take a very unique situation for Carlisle to make such a decision again. He was devastated when I had my breakdown, feeling it was entirely his fault for subjecting me to this life."

"I imagine he'll be pleased to know that you're doing so much better."

"He will. I'll write to him tomorrow."

She smiled. "Will you tell him about me?"

With a chuckle, I replied, "Yes."

"What will you say?"

"That you are the most wonderful, understanding, and wise woman I have ever met."

Her smile faded, though, as she began to consider something. "Edward, is it going to be problematic that I know about you, about all three of you?"

"I don't think so. Carlisle trusts me, and I trust you. I'll be certain he knows that."

Bella and I talked for a long time, and eventually our conversation returned to simpler topics. We had read many of the same books, and we enjoyed discussing the themes and characters, sometimes disagreeing but always enjoying the discourse.

As I tucked her into bed that night, I marveled at the events of the day. Bella remained completely trusting and unafraid of me. My feelings for her had soared to new heights once I apprehended that she truly accepted me and my unusual nature. As I kissed her forehead, I felt a surge of emotion, and in that instant I realized that I loved her.


	14. Chapter 14

_Note:_ I'm sorry for the delay in posting this. I was traveling all last week so didn't have consistent access to my account. I should be back on a regular posting schedule from her on out. Thanks for your patience!

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><p>While Bella slept, I wrote a long letter to Carlisle. My previous missive had been succinct, simply conveying that I was faring better. However, this communication was much more extensive, as my jubilation seemed to flow from my heart and mind directly onto the page. My discovery about my feelings for Bella was certainly cause enough for elation, but in addition I now knew that I could practice medicine again. My joy knew no bounds.<p>

I explained how I had discovered Bella unconscious and had attended her for several precarious days, finally assisting her to a full recovery. I shared my news about the disappearance of my gift and my intention to begin practicing medicine again. I described the small town of Madras and relayed the sad tale of Bella's father to emphasize the need for my skills in this remote area. I suspected that Carlisle would prefer me to err on the side of caution, perhaps returning to St. Paul to spend some time with him and Esme before I began practicing again. He would want to ensure that I was truly healed, that I was ready to undertake the tasks that had broken me before.

But I knew I would not venture further from Bella than a day's journey would require. I assured Carlisle that I was well, and told him that I would welcome a visit from him should he wish to see me.

I described Bella in some detail, but I refrained from an overt statement about her new-found discovery concerning my nature . It was imprudent to reveal this information blatantly. In the end, I simply said that she was compassionate, perceptive, very clever, and absolutely lovely. If Carlisle wished to read more into the words, he was free to do so.

I sent my love to Esme and thanked both her and Carlisle again for the love and care they had provided to me. My gratitude to Carlisle extended to his wisdom in choosing this isolated part of the country for my retreat; this was now the only place I wished to be.

I sealed the letter and addressed it. In the morning I planned to go into town to mail it, as well as to pick up some items that Bella needed. Thoroughly content, I returned to her room to sit beside her as she slept.

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><p>I prepared breakfast again in the morning, and Bella ate a good portion of her meal. As she drank her tea, I told her that I intended to go to Madras to post my letter and purchase a few items.<p>

"Would you like to make a grocery list?" I asked.

"I don't think there's much I need," she replied, "but Callie is nearly out of oats."

"All right. But surely you need things, too? You haven't much food in your root cellar."

"I think I have enough," she said, a flush spreading over her creamy cheeks.

"You need to build up your strength, Bella. You were very ill, and you're still weak. A nutritious diet is important."

"I… I guess I didn't think much about it before," she admitted. "I didn't have much of an appetite after my father was gone."

I placed my hand upon hers. "I understand. But I want you to get well, to be healthy." A little smile tugged at my lips. "Do I have to watch over your every meal? Because I will…"

She gave a small shake of her head, and her fingers curled around mine. "When do you plan to go back home?" she asked.

Honestly, I had not thought of it. That small, lonely structure held no appeal to me now. However, propriety dictated that I return eventually. While Bella was ill and I was attending her, my presence in her home was acceptable. Once she was fully recovered, though, I could no longer remain here, at least not around the clock.

"I want to be certain you're completely well," I finally replied.

She smiled. "I may need another day or two…"

"I'll stay as long as you wish," I said.

The prospect of leaving her for a few hours was difficult enough; the thought of being away for an entire day was almost unbearable. I would not stop watching over her, and I hoped that she would accept me as a frequent visitor in her home.

* * *

><p>I departed for town after breakfast, certain to don my jacket and hat. While the sky was cloudy, the sun could emerge at a moment's notice. I had gloves in my pocket, so I would be prepared for any eventuality.<p>

Bella had insisted on pressing a few coins into my hand for the oats and grocery items, taking them from a small, light purse. I knew she had very little money and vowed to provide her with everything she needed and desired.

When I entered the mercantile, Mrs. Weber remembered me immediately and asked about Bella. I said she was well, deciding it was not my place to share personal details about her with others. I purchased the items she had requested, as well as quite a few that I decided she required, then I told Mrs. Weber I would return soon. I had another errand to accomplish.

I found the livery easily and inquired about buying a horse. The proprietor showed me several geldings, and I selected one that appeared strong yet gentle. The roan would easily be able to pull Bella's small carriage. He shied away from me at first, but I spoke quietly to him, and after a few minutes he permitted me to take his bridle and lead him around the stable.

"He'll do fine," I told the owner.

He appeared happy to make the sale, particularly when I pulled several crisp bills from my pocket. He snatched them from me and told me he would be glad to do business with me at any time.

I led my new purchase back to the store, where I arranged my bags over his back. He snorted and whinnied a few times, but his nature was calm and he did not balk at this small chore he'd been given.

As I was preparing to leave, Mrs. Weber came out with another customer, whom she bid farewell.

"Please give Bella my warmest regards," she said to me, "and would you also give her this for me?" She held a small paper bag in her hand. "It's licorice. It's always been one of her favorites."

I smiled at the kind gesture as I reached for the bag. "Thank you."

My fingers brushed against her hand as I took it, and a dull throb tapped at my right temple. I pulled my hand back quickly.

"Are you…" I stammered. "Are you well?"

"Hmm? Oh yes, Mr. Cullen, I'm fine." A blush spread over her cheeks.

"Forgive me, but you looked a bit pale," I probed rather inelegantly.

She lifted her hand and rubbed at her right temple. "It's just a little headache, but it's nothing serious. It was very kind of you to notice. Thank you."

"I hope you feel better," I said, controlling my urge to sprint away. "Good day." My final words were curt.

I kept my steps steady as I led the horse out of town, but once we were away from the settlement, I began to walk quite briskly. The horse trotted along at my side. My thoughts were racing, and a touch of panic was beginning to creep over me. I had felt Mrs. Weber's discomfort… a minor headache, just a twinge of pain. Yet in all the time I had spent with Bella—while her wound was badly infected, while she suffered through a high fever—I had felt nothing. It made no sense to me. I tried to calm myself and think through the conundrum rationally.

Perhaps I had sensed something in Mrs. Weber's demeanor, some vague sign that she felt slightly ill. I had heard her heartbeat, of course, though I had not consciously registered it. Humans' hearts typically beat faster when they were in pain. Maybe that had alerted me at a subconscious level… Or it may have been something in her expression, a small tightening of her brow or the slight squint of her eyes.

I felt a bit more composed by the time I reached Bella's house. I led the horse toward the barn, removing the bags he had so obligingly carried.

"Oh!" Bella's surprised cry made me spin around.

She stood on the porch, a hand pressed over her chest.

"Edward! You bought a horse!"

She came toward me, and I hurried to intercept her, taking her arm in case she needed support.

"I can't take you for a ride in your carriage without him," I said.

"My carriage… He's, he's not for _me_?"

Her expression clearly showed me that such a gesture would both embarrass and humiliate her. Trying to gather my still slightly jumbled thoughts, I said, "Really, he's for me. However, I have no proper facilities for a horse, and I've never owned an animal before. So I would be very grateful if you would take care of him for me. In return, I offer him to you whenever you wish. You'll be able to ride out to see me if you like, and you'll have a way to get to town whenever you need supplies."

I felt certain that she knew precisely what I was up to, but she had the graciousness to simply smile and say, "Of course, Edward. It would be my pleasure."

She rubbed at the animal's velvety nose, and he nuzzled her hand. This was clearly a lovely match.

"I'll just take these inside," I said, lifting two of the parcels.

Bella spent a few minutes with the horse, speaking softly to it then taking it into the barn. When she joined me in the house, I was putting away the groceries and still ruminating over the incident with Mrs. Weber.

"What's wrong, Edward?" Bella asked.

I looked up at her. "Probably nothing…"

She reached for my hand, taking it gently in a gesture of encouragement. "Tell me," she urged softly.

I touched the small paper bag on the table. "Mrs. Weber sent this for you; it's licorice. She said you always liked it as a child."

Bella smiled. "I did. I still do. That was very nice of her. She's always had such a kind heart."

I nodded rather woodenly. "Yes. But when she handed the bag to me, our fingers touched for a moment, and I thought… I'm not sure, really, it could simply have been my imagination… but for an instant I felt an ache in my temple. And when I asked if she was well, she told me she had a headache."

Bella lifted our joined hands. "But you don't feel anything now?"

I shook my head. "No." Then, worriedly, I asked, "Are you in pain?"

"My leg still hurts a little. Walking out to the barn and back caused a twinge. Wouldn't you be able to feel that?"

"Yes, I should." I tightened my grip on her hand slightly. "But I don't feel anything in my leg. Everything seems fine."

"Then what do you think happened with Angela?" she questioned.

"It's possible that I imagined the sensation. There are many subtle cues to pain—increased heartrate and perspiration, muscular tightness, even dilation of the pupils. I may have picked up on some of those without being aware of it consciously."

She nodded. "You said your imagination was quite vivid even before you developed your gift. Maybe it was just a return to your former abilities."

"It must have been," I agreed. There was no other logical explanation.

Bella smiled and reached up to rest her hand over my cheek. "So you're all right."

"When I'm with you, I feel wonderful."

Her cheeks were very pink as she replied, "I feel the same way, Edward."

I kissed her hand then encouraged her to sit. "I want to take a look at your leg," I explained.

"It's fine. Really, it feels so much better than it did even yesterday."

"All the same…"

She did not argue with me, but she gave a little resigned sigh as she adjusted her skirt to expose her leg. I noticed that she had put on a simple skirt and blouse, but she only wore a pair of thick socks on her feet.

I washed my hands then knelt before her to unwrap the bandage. I checked the wound and surrounding area for swelling and any renewed signs of infection, but I found nothing worrisome.

"It looks fine," I reported. "But it's important that you don't overexert yourself."

I cleaned the wound and applied a fresh bandage. Goosebumps rose on Bella's fair skin several times when I touched her, and I determined to warm my hands the next time I examined her.

As I finished with the dressing, I looked up at her. She was watching me, her expression serene.

"Thank you," she murmured, her cheeks still quite rosy.

"You're welcome."

I pulled the other chair around so that I could sit before her. There was something I had wanted to discuss with her, and this felt like a good time. She was calm and comfortable, and she trusted me.

"Bella," I began, taking her hands in mine, "would you tell me about injuring yourself?"

Her expression showed that she was not expecting this particular question. She did not reply for several seconds. Finally she spoke, her gaze darting away.

"You know it was from the old window pane," she began. "I dropped it as I was removing it from the frame. Sometimes I can be a little clumsy… "

She was blushing again. I kept her hands in mine, rubbing my thumbs lightly over her fingers.

"It began bleeding immediately," she continued, the color abruptly draining from her face. She took a breath. "And you know how I react to… that."

"What did you do?" I pressed gently.

"Um… well, I think I might have fainted for a minute or two, but I managed not to throw up."

"Oh Bella—"

She shrugged. "It's ridiculous, I know."

"No, not at all. I'm just sorry you had to go through that alone."

"Mmm. I had no idea that an excellent doctor was my neighbor… and even if I had, there wasn't any way for me to contact you."

I was about to apologize again, but she shook her head. "Edward, it's all right. Is that what you wanted know?"

"Actually, I already knew how the injury occurred…" I felt hesitant to speak my thoughts but knew I needed to do so.

"Then what else do you want me to tell you?"

"What were you thinking? When it was clear that the wound was infected and you were ill, why didn't you ask for my help the day I brought you the blanket?"

"I barely knew you…"

"But you could have asked me to fetch Mrs. Weber or someone else," I protested mildly.

"I…" Now a hint of color was returning to her cheeks. "I suppose I wasn't thinking very clearly."

"Of course. You were feverish. But didn't you realize that the wound needed attention, that it was making you ill?"

"I tried to take care of it," she said haltingly. "But the blood… It was very difficult."

She had not yet returned her gaze to me.

It was time to voice my suspicions, albeit as kindly as I could. "Bella, did you not want to get well?"

Now her eyes moved to my face, her mouth slightly agape. "What… what do you mean?"

"Precisely what I said," I replied, my gentle tone belying the gravity of my words. "I'm concerned that you believed you shouldn't try to get better—that maybe on some level you felt you didn't deserve it."

Tears filled her eyes. "Maybe," she admitted, "a little."

"And now, Bella? How do you feel now?"

"Glad," she replied immediately, "and grateful. I'm so glad you found me, and so grateful that you took care of me and made me well. And you helped me to understand that what happened to my father wasn't something I could have prevented, at least not in the circumstances I was given. I'm truly happy to be alive."

Tears ran down her cheeks. I brushed them away then drew her into my arms, telling her, "That is all I need to know."

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	15. Chapter 15

The next day I had a surprise for Bella. I had spent much of the night in the barn, working on a small project while she slept. After she woke and I had determined that she was nearly back to full health, I asked her to wait inside and refrain from peeking out the window for a few minutes.

I slipped into the barn to emerge a short time later in the horse-drawn carriage. I had painted the conveyance and replaced a few bolts and other pieces to ensure that it was completely safe.

"Bella!" I called, pulling up near the porch.

She opened the door and gasped in delighted surprise. "Edward! It looks beautiful!"

"Would you care to go for a ride?" I asked.

"Oh yes!"

"Then we shall, right after breakfast. Perhaps you would help me to pack a picnic lunch?"

"I don't need much—maybe just an apple or two."

"We'll see about that," I responded with mock sternness. Then I hopped down and tied the horse to one of the porch posts.

Bella rubbed his nose and complimented his behavior. She had named him Stanley, which suited him somehow.

I ushered her back inside so that she could dress and eat. I selected a few items I thought she might enjoy for her lunch. I had purchased several tins of cookies at the store, so I packed one of these along with two apples and two of the eggs she had hard-boiled the night before.

Soon Bella was ready for our ride. She wore a blue blouse and brown skirt, carrying her shawl over her arm. A pretty straw hat—the same one she had worn on the train—adorned her head. She looked gorgeous. Her scent was delectable, too: freesia and strawberry, with a hint of honey. She was utterly enticing.

I helped her into the carriage then asked if there was anywhere in particular she wished to go. I had one stop in mind, but I was glad to leave the rest up to her whims.

"I'd like to see your house," she said immediately.

"There's very little to see," I began.

"But it's yours, and that's a great deal to me."

So we set off toward my property. The day was partially cloudy but not cold, although the crispness of autumn was in the air. I spread a blanket over Bella's legs to keep her from becoming chilled.

We reached my house within thirty minutes. Bella commented immediately on the stone chimney, and once we entered she spent time surveying my books and the few items I had left out. There was a photograph of Carlisle and Esme on the mantle, which she studied for a full minute.

"I can see the kindness in his eyes," she finally commented. "And she's very beautiful. She looks so gentle and thoughtful."

I nodded. "She is."

"You must miss them."

"I do, but I don't feel lonely."

She smiled at this then continued her explorations. She stepped into the small room off the main area then turned to me with a little frown of confusion. "There's no bed."

"No. I don't sleep."

"Not ever?" she asked.

"Never."

"I thought… I mean, it seemed like you just didn't need much rest…"

"I never get tired," I tried to explain, "at least not physically."

"Oh." Her expression conveyed sympathy; she understood that my mind had become exhausted during my illness. She gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

After our stop, we climbed back into the small carriage and continued on, conversing pleasantly until I reined in the horse. We were at the edge of the woods, and a small rise lay just ahead of us.

I helped Bella to the ground then took the picnic basket in one hand and her elbow in the other. We began to walk, but after a minute I decided that I didn't want her to climb the little hill just yet. So I scooped her up into my arms, earning a small cry of surprise from her, and carried her over the rise.

The meadow lay before us. Autumn flowers were in bloom, carpeting the ground in yellow, white, and pink. The clouds were clearing, and sunshine bathed the field in warmth.

"Edward," she murmured as I set her on the ground.

I was grinning, pleased that I had thought to bring her to such a lovely spot. I spread a blanket over the grass and helped her to sit down. She was gazing at me, but I could not decipher her expression.

"Bella?" I prompted. "What are you thinking?"

"You…" She exhaled slowly as she lifted her hand to touch my cheek. "You're so beautiful. The light is like a million tiny diamonds on your skin. I've never seen anything like it."

My first instinct was to duck my head, to remove my flesh from her view. But she was entranced. The look of horror I had imagined when I thought of her seeing my true self was entirely absent. She did not find me repulsive. Indeed, her reaction appeared quite to the contrary.

She ran her fingertips over my cheeks, nose, brow, and chin, then traced along my jaw.

"Magnificent," she murmured.

"Thank you, Bella," I replied softly. "You don't know what it means to hear you say that."

"What else would I possibly say?"

I swallowed nervously. "That I'm unnatural… an aberration… a monster."

"Oh Edward! No, no, no!"

I opened my mouth to protest, but she silenced me with her warm fingers pressed over my lips. I kissed them then kissed her palm and wrist. I wanted desperately to kiss her full, rosy lips, but such an action would be extremely forward and inappropriate, so I settled for holding her hand in mine as she lay back to look up at the sky.

I lay beside her, aware that she was glancing over at me frequently. I could not keep my eyes upon the heavens, either; my angel was upon the earth.

We spoke about many things, but in the end all that I remembered was the sound of her lovely voice and the feel of her hand in mine. Eventually her stomach made a little gurgle, which embarrassed her greatly. I simply chuckled and sat up to reach for the picnic basket.

I had tucked a small vase inside, and, faster than her human eyes could see, I plucked a handful of white flowers from the grass and set them in the container. Then I arranged the food on the blanket before us.

"Your lunch awaits," I announced, sliding my hand behind her back to help her sit up.

She smiled at the sight before her, and I thought she was going to laugh. However, her demeanor changed quickly as her trembling hand reached for the flowers.

"Where… where did these come from?" she asked in a quavering voice.

"From just over there." I pointed at the cluster of blossoms. "I'm sorry. I thought you would enjoy them—"

"It's…" She was blinking back tears. "They're very pretty, Edward. It's just that my father used to gather these when I a child. He'd bring me a little bouquet whenever he saw them growing by the side of the road."

I realized that these were the same variety of flower I had tucked into the string on the package I had brought her the first day we met. I remembered her reaction, too, and now I understood it.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I didn't know. I would never do anything to cause you pain—"

She shook her head and swiped at her eyes. "No, I'm not sad. I'm just remembering. It's poignant but good. I suppose I hadn't really thought about that in a long time."

I reached over and pulled a few yellow blossoms from the field and added them to the vase. "Perhaps we can create a new memory that lets us acknowledge the past and look to the future."

She smiled. "I'd like that… very much."

"I would, too."

The afternoon passed swiftly. Soon the light began to fade and a sharp chill crackled through the air. I removed my jacket and tucked it around Bella's shoulders then helped her back to the carriage. We drove back to her home, still talking and laughing, her head against my shoulder.

That evening, as we sat on the settee before the warm glow of the fire, I realized that I had never felt happier in my entire existence. The day had been perfect, and I hoped it was only the first of many more to come.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	16. Chapter 16

I could not remain at Bella's house indefinitely. Propriety dictated that I return to my home once she was well. The few hours I spent there each day were restless ones. I would hunt when necessary, and I tried to read, but it was difficult to concentrate on anything aside from thoughts of Bella. I devoted as much time as possible to her, and, unbeknownst to Bella, I watched over her every night. Usually I sat outside her window, but more than once I entered the house to comfort her when she had a nightmare. The bad dreams were fewer and farther between, but she still occasionally dreamt about her father's death.

In her half-asleep state, I do not believe she was fully aware of my presence. Still, it seemed to calm her, and she would return to slumber peacefully for the remainder of the night.

Each morning I appeared in the copse, ready to spend the day with her. Often we drove to the meadow or to the base of the mountains for a leisurely stroll, but as the weather got colder, our excursions diminished. I would not risk Bella's becoming chilled and falling ill again.

There was plenty of work to be done on Charles Swan's farm. This occupied much of my time during the autumn. I cleared the fields and repaired the barn, working at a human pace to ensure that I would always have something more to do the next day.

Sometimes Bella and I stood beside her father's grave, and she would tell me about him. We always spoke quietly, reverently, and after a time I felt that I knew him. I was sorry I had never had the opportunity to meet the man in person, though.

We spent many hours just talking. Bella shared her feeling about her father's illness and death, and I provided whatever comforting words and gestures I could. For her part, she was a compassionate listener as I described my own affliction and its effects. At first I had been hesitant to reveal too much, but gradually I found that her gentle, kindhearted support drew the memories from me, assuaging the residual pain in my mind.

* * *

><p>About three weeks after our first trip to the meadow, Bella told me that she would like to go into town. This pleased me, as her exclusion from society felt wrong to me. Much as I loved having her all to myself, I knew that it was important for humans to interact with others of their kind.<p>

Bella had explained that she and Angela Weber had been friends as children, playing together when her mother would bring her to visit Mr. Swan. Angela was several years older, and it seemed that Bella had looked up to her much like an elder sister. I found the thought endearing and looked forward to seeing the two young women together. Both were kind, compassionate, and gentle, and I was certain they would bring each other joy.

We drove to Madras in the buggy on a sunny but cold morning in late October. While I would have preferred to make the short trip on a cloudy day, I knew Bella would enjoy the sunshine, so I donned gloves, a jacket, and a hat to keep the light off of my skin.

"Angela sent me an invitation to her wedding," Bella told me as the carriage bumped along. "I wish I could have gone… I know she's very happy with Ben."

"How long ago was that?" I asked.

"Three years."

"Well, I know she'll be thrilled to see you today. I could tell how fond she is of you from the way she spoke."

Bella smiled up at me, slipping her small hand through my arm. I grinned at the affectionate gesture.

When we arrived in town, I tied the horse to the hitching post in front of the mercantile. As I was helping Bella down, a man stepped out of the store. He carried several crates in his arms.

"Bella?" he questioned.

He was in his late twenties, with dark hair and sparkling, intelligent eyes. He appeared a very pleasant fellow.

"Ben!" she exclaimed.

He set down his burden and took her hands in his. "It's wonderful to see you. How are you? We've missed you."

Her smile was genuine as she replied, "I'm well. I've missed you and Angela, too."

"She's right inside. She's going to be so glad to see you. She's wanted to ride out and visit, but… well, it hasn't worked out."

Bella's brow furrowed just a bit, then Ben turned to me.

"Ben, this is Edward Cullen," Bella introduced politely, and with a touch of something else in her voice added, "my neighbor."

"Oh, Mr. Cullen," he exclaimed, shaking my hand heartily, "Angela mentioned you. I'm pleased to meet you." He glanced at the boxes. "Let me just get these into the back… go on in."

Bella and I entered the store. Angela was at the mail counter, but she turned when she heard us walk in. Immediately I was struck by the change in her appearance. She was quiet pale, her features drawn and weary. However, a slight roundness in her abdomen belied the apparent weight loss. Instantly my ears picked up the flutter of a tiny heartbeat amid the two steady adult ones.

I smiled. "Mrs. Weber," I greeted, removing my hat.

"Mr. Cullen… and Bella!"

The two women embraced warmly, holding each other for a long time. When they drew back, both were beaming.

"I've thought about you so often," Angela said. "I've wanted to come out and see you, but…" Her cheeks colored as she paused, then she looked at me with a shy smile. "The store isn't very busy today. Can you stay for a little while? I'll make lunch."

Bella glanced at me, and I gave a nod of agreement. The excitement on her face would have encouraged my acceptance of almost anything; I adored seeing her happy.

"Oh, and Mr. Cullen," Angela said, stepping back to the postal corner, "I have a letter for you. It arrived about a week ago."

She passed it to me, and I thanked her. Unsurprisingly, the address was written in Carlisle's flowing script. I tucked it into my pocket to read later. It would be something to occupy my mind for a brief time while I was away from Bella this evening.

Angela and Bella chatted amiably for a few minutes until another customer entered the store. Angela excused herself, and Bella told her that we would be back shortly. Aside from purchasing some groceries and livery items, there was something else we had planned to do while we were in town.

We walked out onto the street. I pulled down my hat reflexively and checked my gloves as the bright sunshine washed over me.

Bella looked up at my face and smiled reassuringly. "You look fine," she whispered, and I understood her meaning.

We strolled along, looking in the few shop windows and pausing at the livery to order the oats and hay Stanley and Callie would need. The town's two streets were occupied by several dozen homes, a scattering of small businesses—a rooming house, a saloon, a mining office, a lumber mill—a small schoolhouse, a church, and the deputy's office. On the outskirts lay more houses and, further out, additional homesteads. In all, I estimated that about three hundred people lived in the immediate vicinity of Madras.

"Do you see anything that might work?" Bella asked me after we had reached the end of the street.

"Perhaps the abandoned building near the deputy's office," I mused. It was small, but I only required two or three rooms, and I could add on if I needed to.

"Let's go look at it again," she suggested.

I could tell that she was trying to temper her enthusiasm. She knew that I was not quite ready to begin practicing medicine full-time again. Finding a suitable location for an office was a good first step, however.

We peeked through the dusty windows. I could see a large, open room that could be divided into two spaces, one for a surgery and one for a small area in which patients and families could wait.

"It could work," I said with a thoughtful nod. "I'd need to do some renovations and divide the space into two or three separate rooms, but I think it might do."

Bella was smiling. "You know I'll do whatever I can to help—when the time feels right."

I suppose that part of my hesitation was for selfish reasons. If I moved to town and began a practice, my time with Bella would be severely curtailed. I would need to be available to my patients around the clock, and it would be difficult to find even an hour to slip away to Bella's homestead. I hoped I could convince her to move into Madras, and now that she and Angela were reconnecting, I felt she might have a good reason to consider relocating.

As we strolled back to the store, Bella sobered slightly and asked me, "Did you think Angela looked unwell?"

"Mmm," I replied noncommittally. I did not feel the happy news was mine to share.

"Edward?" Bella was slightly alarmed. "What did you notice?"

"Nothing to worry about," I assured her. "I don't believe it's anything long-term."

Perplexed, Bella shook her head. "I hope not…" Changing tacks, she said, "Is it going to be a problem for you to eat lunch with her and Ben?"

During my years in medical school and at the hospital, it had been necessary for me to appear to dine with colleagues more than once. It presented little challenge to me. "No," I replied, touched that she would think of it, "I'll manage."

We entered the store again, and Angela beckoned us to the back, where she and Ben had small but attractive living quarters. Her husband was seated on a settee in the little parlor, and Angela had set out a china tea service. She gestured for Bella to sit in on of the chairs; I took the other at her side. Angela poured the tea then sank down beside Ben. Both had pleasant smiles on their faces.

Angela took a sip of her tea then set the cup on the table with a tiny grimace. Ben rubbed at her back.

"Bella," Angela began, "I want to apologize again for not coming out to visit you. I really did want to—"

"It's all right," Bella replied immediately. "I know I wasn't very cordial the last time you were there…"

I recalled that Angela had attended the small funeral held for Mr. Swan.

"Oh no," Angela said, "it's not that, not at all! I did want to come, but I… well, for the last few months I've been a little… under the weather."

Bella shot me a glance, and I knew she was wondering why I'd told her that Angela was fine. I smiled slightly and let my fingertips brush over Bella's hand.

Angela was blushing now, and Ben was grinning from ear to ear. He held her hand in his.

"It's just…" Angela took a breath.

I could hear the air moving through her lungs and the rapid beating of her heart. She was excited and a bit anxious to share her news. The baby's tiny heart flickered steadily.

"What's the matter?" Bella asked, quite confused now. "Angela, please tell me."

"Nothing's the matter," Angela said, then, her voice dropping, she said softly, "Ben and I are going to have a baby."

Bella's mouth fell open in surprise. "Oh!" She shot to her feet, pulling her friend into a hug.

I stood to shake Ben's hand. "Congratulations," I said.

His grin did not diminish. "Thanks," he replied joyfully. He was genuinely pleased at the prospect of fatherhood.

Bella and Angela stepped into the next room to finish lunch preparations, but I could hear their conversation easily, even as I spoke with Ben. He asked me where I was from, and I replied that I had moved from St. Paul. I felt uncertain about sharing too much of my past, however. It seemed prudent to refrain from revealing my profession until I was truly ready to re-enter it. So I turned the conversation to my host, inquiring about his business.

As he told me about the store, I listened to Bella and Angela, curious to know the nature of their words.

"…really am sorry," Angela was saying, "I wanted so much to ride out to see you. But I was pretty sick for the first couple of months. And Ben was worried—" Her voice dropped. "We lost a baby about six months after we were married."

Bella offered sincere condolences, and Angela thanked her before continuing. "We thought we should be really cautious this time, particularly since I was feeling so poorly. Some days Ben wouldn't even let me sit at the counter; he made me rest in bed."

"How are you feeling now?" Bella asked gently.

"Better. Most of the stomach troubles and dizziness have passed."

"I'm glad. When do you expect the baby?"

"Early spring—in March."

"That's wonderful."

The slight rustle of fabric told me that they were embracing again. As Ben replied to my query about the local populace, Angela's words caught my attention.

"Mr. Cullen seems like a very kind man," she said.

"He is," Bella answered softly. "I've never met anyone kinder."

"Do you see him often?"

"Nearly every day. He's helping me with the farm, clearing the fields and repairing the barn."

"Really? That's wonderful."

"It is. _He_ is."

"Bella," Angela's voice dropped to a whisper, "is he courting you?"

"Um…"

"I'm sorry," Angela said quickly. "I didn't mean to pry."

"No, it's all right. I suppose I just hadn't thought about it in that way. Edward has been so wonderful, so helpful, so caring…"

I could hear the smile in Angela's voice as she said, "He adores you, you know. I can see it in every glance he gives you."

"I… feel the same way."

Ben's question forced me to attend to him more closely. "…brought you out here from St. Paul?"

"I needed a change from the city," I replied with some honesty.

He gave a nod of understanding. "I've spent some time in Portland, and I visited San Francisco once. There was a lot to see, and it was all very exciting, but it's hard to think when there's so much activity and noise. Here it's quiet, peaceful. Sometimes Angela and I go out near the river just to walk and enjoy the solitude."

"This seems like an ideal place to raise a family," I commented, earning a wide grin from Ben.

Angela called us to lunch then, and we sat around the table chatting amiably as the humans ate and I surreptitiously tucked bits of food into my pockets. Shortly before the meal was finished, the bell atop the shop door rang, and Ben stood, excusing himself to attend to the customer.

Bella and I helped to clear the plates, rising a few minutes after Ben's departure. Angela protested, saying she could do this small chore herself, but Bella insisted, and I gave Angela a knowing smile. Bella could be quite determined, and it was pointless to oppose her. Besides, I found her purposefulness adorable.

Bella and I made our purchases then gathered our things before bidding our warm hosts good bye. I made certain my hat and gloves were secure before stepping outside again. Ben and Angela walked us to the door, and he shook my hand again. Angela took my hand gently in hers and told me how much she had enjoyed seeing me again.

"Would you like to come for dinner next Saturday evening?" she asked, looking from me to Bella.

"We don't want to put you to any trouble," Bella replied.

"It's no trouble at all," Angela said. "Honestly, I feel better right now than I have in months. I think you have a positive effect on me." She smiled cordially.

Bella glanced at me, and I nodded agreeably. "All right, then," she said, "we'll see you next Saturday."

"Seven o'clock?" Angela asked.

I tipped my hat. "We shall look forward to it. Please take care of yourself, Mrs. Weber."

"Angela," she corrected with a faint blush.

"Angela, then. And please, call me Edward."

Angela nodded as Ben slipped his arm around her waist. They waved as we drove off.

We were barely out of town when Bella asked, "Do you think Angela is all right? She looks thin, and she's pale—"

"She had quite a bit of nausea during the first few months," I replied. "Some weight loss often occurs in women who suffer morning sickness. She's in her fourth month now, so the queasiness should diminish significantly. She ate fairly well at lunch today; I think she'll begin to gain weight soon."

"She told me she'd lost a baby shortly after they were married."

"Yes. I heard her say that." For an instant I think Bella had forgotten about my superior senses. "It's not an uncommon occurrence in a first pregnancy."

"But does it mean this one will be difficult?"

"No. The first pregnancy was two years ago. Her body would have recovered fully within a few months. The baby's heartbeat sounds fine, as does hers."

"You could hear the baby's heart?"

"Yes, faintly. It sounded just as it should."

Bella nodded and exhaled a sigh of relief. "She's such a sweet person. I want only happiness for her and Ben."

"I do, too."

Bella placed her hand atop mine, fingers threading through mine. "You don't mind having dinner with them?"

"Not at all. They're very agreeable."

"They are." Her lovely brow furrowed. "But Edward, what happened to your lunch? Did you actually eat it?"

I laughed and slid glanced down at my pocket. "No. I just transferred it to a less obvious location than my plate."

Her gaze followed mine. "Oh." She grinned when she realized I had applied a bit of legerdemain as we dined. "Oh!"

"I suppose I should dispose of it." I released her hand rather reluctantly and tossed the bits of food into the woods.

Then I pulled off my glove and took her warm hand in mine again. "Thank you for keeping my past to yourself," I said softly. "I appreciate your discretion."

"What do you mean?"

"When you told Angela that I've helped you… You didn't mention your illness, just that I was assisting you with the farm."

"Well, it's true."

"But you could have said a lot more."

"You deserve privacy," she replied, scooting a little closer so that she could rest her head against my shoulder. "It's not my place to tell others about your past."

"Thank you, Bella."

We were quiet for a few moments as I pondered the events of the day. Finally, I said, "I think that building next to the deputy's office would be quite suitable."

Bella smiled softly. "I imagine it will remain available for awhile."

"Perhaps I'll make an inquiry in a month or so."

Her grip on my hand tightened incrementally. "Is that too soon?" She was sincerely worried for me.

"I don't think so. I didn't feel anything particular when I shook Ben's hand before lunch."

"What about Angela?"

I thought back. I had not, in fact, actually touched her. But my contact with Ben had been entirely innocuous; I had sensed nothing from him. Surely he had been hungry at the time, but I had not felt it.

My answer was somewhat oblique. "I'm sure I'm fine. I think I'm ready to begin considering returning to work." I gave her a lopsided half-smile. "And there's a bit of a time constraint here. I want to be sure to have everything ready by early March. I suspect I'll have a rather important patient to attend."

Bella kissed my cheek. "I'm so glad you're well. Thank you, Edward."

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

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	17. Chapter 17

Thoughts swirled through my mind as I ran back to my house that evening. I would spend a few hours there then return to Bella's homestead shortly after she retired for the night, as I did habitually.

As the wind rushed past me, I recalled Angela's words: _He adores you, you know. I can see it in every glance he gives you._

I replayed Bella's reply over and over again, my smile broadening. _I… feel the same way._

This news thrilled me. I had suspected it, of course, but now I had objective proof, and it left me utterly elated. I had come here a broken creature, hoping to find relative peace and some degree of improvement. That outcome was the best I had dared to dream. I would never have imagined I would discover another soul whose mere presence filled me with joy. And, because of her, I could resume my professional endeavors, healing others just as she had helped to heal me. Truly I was blessed.

Once inside my house, I made a fire and settled down to read Carlisle's letter. He was glad to hear that I was feeling well. He expressed appreciation for my warm gratitude toward him and Esme, and conveyed her love to me. She was doing quite well, too, and had been able to venture out a few times in the late evening when a handful of humans were in the vicinity. He hoped she would be ready to rejoin society to some degree within a few more months.

He commented on Bella, of course. Naturally he was surprised that I should develop a friendship with a human woman, and he cautioned me to take care in my interactions with her:

_The human heart is, in many ways, more fragile than the human body._ _Wounding either can cause irrevocable damage. While I know more assuredly than anyone the innate gentleness and compassion you possess, I trust you comprehend the difficulties of developing more than a casual acquaintanceship with any mortal being._

His words caused a momentary stutter in the buoyancy of my mood, but after a few moments' thought I realized that he did not grasp the situation fully. I had not provided adequate background. He did not know that Bella was aware of my true nature and was unafraid of it. I debated sharing this information with him but decided it was best to wait. If things developed as I hoped they would, he would meet Bella himself and understand.

* * *

><p>I remained jubilant for the entire week. Bella was very happy, too. We spoke often about my plans to purchase the building in town and begin setting up my practice. I decided to send for a supply catalog on Saturday so that I could start ordering the equipment I would need.<p>

Bella's thoughts often turned to Angela, and she mentioned several other individuals she knew in Madras, too. While she was quiet by nature, I knew that she enjoyed spending time with others who possessed a similar character. This gave me solid hope that she would consider moving into town shortly after I did.

"Perhaps the school could use another teacher," I suggested on Friday evening as we sat before the hearth. "Ben told me that new families are moving to the area every month. More children may mean a larger school…"

She smiled gently. "It's possible. I'll ask Angela what she knows."

Bella had not dismissed my idea; indeed, she expressed an interest. This was encouraging, to say the least.

On Saturday, just as the sun began to set, we climbed into the buggy and set off for town. I tucked a wool blanket around Bella's legs, as the evening was chilly. She wore her coat and gloves and had placed a felt hat upon her head. She looked particularly lovely in an emerald wool dress.

The ride was quite pleasant. Bella was excited to see her friend again, and I enjoyed the thought of getting a feel for the community. Tonight I would pay attention to the sights and activities to begin to learn about the residents of Madras.

We left the horse and buggy at the livery, then I escorted Bella to the Webers' home. We passed several people along the way, smiling and nodding at each. We entered the small house through the door behind the store, greeted warmly by Angela. Her color had improved slightly, and both her and the baby's heartbeats were steady and strong. She took our hats, coats, and gloves and showed us to the parlor.

"Ben will join us in a few minutes," she said. "He's just finishing unpacking a shipment. Let's hope it's not candy. He's got such a sweet tooth; he'll ruin his appetite for dinner!" Her tone contained nothing but amused affection for her husband.

Angela gestured toward the settee, and I did not miss the tiny grin she shot at Bella. We sat down next to each other, and Angela sat in one of the chairs. She wriggled slightly before placing a pillow behind her back.

"How are you feeling?" Bella asked her.

"Pretty good," she replied, but it was clear to me that her back was sore.

We had been chatting for about five minutes when I heard a muttered curse from inside the store. A few moments later the faint yet distinct smell of human blood hit my senses. I listened intently, catching the echo of Ben's rapid heartbeat.

"Ange!" Ben called.

"Excuse me," Angela said, "but I think Ben needs me for a moment." She stood quickly, tottering for an instant.

I shot to my feet and took a rapid step toward her, catching her arm to steady her. She looked up at me with a grateful smile and pressed her hand over mine. A twinge of pain flickered in my lower back.

"Thank you," she said before hastening away.

I tensed instantly. I had felt pain… but I had been aware of the achiness she was experiencing. Was it just my imagination?

"Edward?" Bella asked. "What's wrong?" She took my hand, and all I felt was the lovely, comforting warmth of her skin.

I shook my head to dismiss my previous notion. "I think Ben's been hurt."

"Really?"

"He cried out, and I can smell blood."

"Oh dear…"

I listened as Angela hurried into the store. "Ben—Oh! What happened?"

"I was cutting open that last box of licorice whips—my hand must've slipped."

"How bad is it? Let me see…"

Ben hissed in pain, and Angela gasped lightly. "There's a lot of blood… I can't tell…"

"Bella," I said quickly, "Ben's cut himself; he's bleeding quite a bit."

She blanched, but I could see the concern in her pinched features. "Can you help?" she asked.

"Yes, of course. Wait here." I darted off to the door that led into the store.

Ben was leaning against the counter as Angela pressed a towel over his hand. The scent of blood was heavy in the air.

"Is everything all right?" I asked as innocently as possible, setting the mail I'd brought on the postal counter. Then, attempting to sound surprised, I said, "Oh—you're hurt!"

Ben glanced up with a sigh. "It's just a cut… I was a little careless."

Angela peeked beneath the towel. "Let's rinse this off."

I followed them to the small washroom at the back of the store. Angela turned on the faucet as Ben gingerly unwrapped his hand.

"May I see it?" I asked. "I studied medicine at one time…"

Ben's expression showed his surprise at my statement, but he held out his hand dutifully. I took the towel then gently grasped his wrist. Instantly my hand began to throb, and I nearly reeled at the pain. I clenched my jaw to avoid crying out.

"That bad?" Ben asked in alarm as he caught my expression.

With considerable effort, I composed myself, shaking my head and urging him to place his hand under the water. I moved my hand up so that my fingers were shielded from his skin by his shirt sleeve. Taking a clean towel, I applied light pressure to the wound then examined it visually.

"It's not as bad as it looks," I reported, relieved that it would not require sutures. I was in no position to perform even a minor procedure at the moment. "Clean it with soap and water, and keep it bandaged for a few days. It should be fine."

Angela attended to her husband, while I walked woodenly back to the parlor, where Bella waited anxiously. The moment she saw my face, she exclaimed, "Edward! What is it? Did he cut off a finger?"

Her small, warm hands pressed over my chest, helping to ground me.

"He's all right," I said hoarsely.

"Then what is it? What's wrong?" She lifted her hand toward my face, but I flinched back.

"Edward?" Tears filled her eyes; she could sense my distress. "Please, tell me what's happened."

"I…I felt it," I stammered. "The pain in his hand. I could feel it in mine. And my back ached when I touched Angela. Oh God, Bella, it's returned. It's happening again."

My mind was thrumming as memories of all the pain, all the suffering, I had felt those many months ago surged forth. I pressed my fists over my eyes.

"Wait here," she said, her voice gently commanding.

I stood motionless as she hurried into the store. My thoughts filled with echoes of moans, cries, and whimpers, nearly eclipsing Bella's voice in the distance. Then she was beside me, sliding her arm through mine. I noticed vaguely that she had put on her gloves.

"Come on, let's go," she said.

I followed her without question as she led me to the livery stable. My mind cleared slightly as I forced myself to inhale the cool night air, but I remained distressed. I waited outside while Bella spoke with the attendant, and in a minute she drove the buggy out. I climbed up, shoving my gloves on then sitting miserably beside her as she guided the horse out of town.

"Edward," she said softly after a few minutes, "it's going to be all right."

I shook my head. "It's not. I can't practice again; I can't go through all of that again."

"You don't have to practice." Her voice was gentle and compassionate. "You don't have to do anything that causes you pain."

But she did not understand the worst of it. My dreams had just shattered, that much was true. But there was something worse: She did not comprehend that I was now afraid to touch her.

I bowed my head, my hands clutching at my hair.

"Sshh," she soothed, one hand rubbing over my back. "Sshh, my Edward. It's going to be all right. Everything will be fine…"

I didn't have the strength to tell her how very wrong she was.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	18. Chapter 18

I knew I should go home and seek out solitude once again. My mind was still in turmoil, and if I could not find comfort in Bella's touch, it seemed an unnecessary cruelty to be near her.

But she was insistent that I accompany her into the house. She led me to the parlor and made a fire while I sat like a stone on the sofa. She lowered herself down cautiously to sit beside me, keeping her hands in her lap.

"Do you think it came back suddenly?" she asked very gently.

My eyes were closed, and my head was in my hands. "It must have."

Articulating that knowledge left me devastated once again. I didn't realize I was rocking back and forth until I felt Bella's small hand press over my back. For a moment I stiffened until I realized that my shirt prevented me from feeling her skin directly.

Her hand moved softly up and down, over and over, while I remained in my hunched position. I didn't realize her hand had crept up to my neck until I felt the warmth of her fingers against my nape. Instantly I froze, fighting the instinct to lurch to my feet.

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed softly, pulling her hand away. "Did that hurt you?"

The only physical sensation I had felt was the heat of her skin and the gentle pulsing of the blood through the veins in her hand. "No," I replied huskily.

She gathered me into her arms then, pressing her hand over my cheek. She held me for a very long time, and gradually I began to calm. Her heartbeat was steady and soothing, and her gentle touches were a welcome relief.

Finally she spoke. "Tell me what you're thinking," she said quietly.

"That I'm grateful for you, for your comfort, for your presence."

"I feel the same," she replied. "Why do you think it's different now, with me?"

I reached for her hand. "If a person isn't in any particular discomfort, I don't feel anything specific."

"It's only pain you feel, right?"

"I can feel pleasurable sensations, too, but it's much rarer that someone I'm touching is experiencing anything like that."

"Hmm," she acknowledged. "Discomfort…" she repeated slowly, thoughtfully. "What do you mean?"

"Hunger, fatigue, nausea, fever or chills, a full bladder…"

Her fingers stroked over my brow. "I'm sorry, Edward. I can't imagine… it must be terrible. I suppose I didn't realize just how truly wrenching it was until tonight."

"I'm sorry you had to see that."

"No, don't be. I feel I'm to blame for exposing you to it—"

"Bella, no. You had no way of knowing what would happen." Despondency washed over me again as the gravity of the situation reverberated through my thoughts.

I felt lost. I had enjoyed my relations with Ben and Angela; I had felt genial strolling through town. Now I would have to shield myself from society again, removing myself from interactions with others, just as I had four months ago. I could return to Carlisle and Esme, of course, but the thought of parting from Bella devastated me. Yet how could I remain with her if I had to maintain constant vigilance and monitor every touch? She was human, and it was inevitable that she would often experience physical discomfort.

"I should go," I said. It was time to reaccustom myself to being alone.

Bella shook her head and caught my hand as I began to rise. "No, Edward, you shouldn't be by yourself now. Please stay."

I glanced at the small clock on the mantle. It was after midnight. I could see dusky shadows beginning to appear beneath Bella's eyes.

"You need to sleep," I replied.

"That doesn't mean you have to leave. You can wait right here, by the fire."

I hesitated, then she added, "Please, Edward. You didn't leave me alone when I needed you. I don't want you to be alone now, either."

"All right," I acquiesced.

She stood, kissing my cheek before walking off. I was immersed in my thoughts so paid little attention to the small noises she made as she moved through the kitchen, stepped outside, then finally padded down the hall to her bedroom.

* * *

><p>I remained on the settee until the sun's rays filled the room and Bella came to stand before me. She placed her hand against my cheek, tentatively at first then more firmly when I did not flinch away.<p>

"Good morning," she said.

I looked up at her. She still appeared tired; she had only slept five or six hours, and I suspected her slumber had been fitful. I nodded in solemn greeting.

"How do you feel today?" she asked.

"The same, I suppose."

Her hand remained on my cheek. "No discomfort?"

"No. Are you feeling some?"

She shook her head and gave me a tiny smile. "I'm going to light the stove then milk Callie," she told me. "I'll be back in a little while."

"Yes."

The fire had died down to embers, but I did not possess the energy to add more wood. I sat motionlessly until I heard Bella return to the kitchen. I smelled fresh milk and heard the little thud as she set the pail on the table.

She walked into the room slowly and sat down beside me, cautiously slipping her hand into mine.

"All right?" she inquired.

"Yes," replied.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded. "It's fine; it feels very nice. Thank you, Bella—"

"Edward," she said, her voice quietly grave, "look."

She slid up her sleeve to reveal her forearm. I stared uncomprehendingly for several long seconds. She had a fresh burn on the tender skin of her inner arm, just above her wrist. The edges were angry red, and the center was beginning to blister.

"When…" I stammered unbelievingly, "when did this happen?"

"About twenty minutes ago, when I lit the stove."

My hand shook as I began to pull it out of her grasp, but she clung tighter. I took a breath and prepared myself for the pain, but I felt absolutely nothing, just as I had felt nothing before.

"How is this possible?" I asked. "I experienced Ben's and Angela's pain last night…"

"Maybe it doesn't work on everyone," she said softly. "I think it's clear that it doesn't work on me."

I thought back to the day I had sensed Angela's headache. I knew now that I had not imagined it. My thoughts were suddenly disjointed by the shock of my discovery. An undertone of anger simmered through me.

"You touched me purposefully," I said, "after you were burned. Why, Bella? Why would you do that?" I could not understand why she would wish to inflict pain upon me.

She shook her head. "I was nearly certain you wouldn't feel it," she replied, her tone infinitely gentle. "I would never hurt you, Edward; I would never intentionally cause you pain. But last night, when I was touching you, I was very hungry, and I was feeling other things, too…" She blushed lightly. "Things you said you normally feel from humans. But you didn't with me. And I wondered… All that time when I was sick, when my leg hurt and I was feverish…Maybe you didn't feel it simply because your gift doesn't work on me."

Calmer now at her assurance that she had not intended to hurt me, I considered her statement carefully. As a practicing physician, I had never encountered a patient who was exempt from my ability. I had felt Carlisle's pain during our experimental sessions, and I had briefly experienced Esme's agony as she underwent her change. As I began to recover from my collapse, I had still sensed the aches, pains, and pangs of those I touched. All empirical evidence suggested that Bella was the sole individual upon whom my unique sense did not work.

"I don't understand it," I finally said, "but I believe you're right."

I still held her hand in mine. My eyes moved back to the blistered skin on her arm. Clearly it was a painful injury, yet no pain—not even a twinge—flickered anywhere in my body.

Bella offered me a wan smile. "Maybe there's something wrong with me."

"With you? No, love, I can't imagine…" But it was an intriguing suggestion. Did she experience pain in an unusual way? Perhaps there was an anomaly in nerve conduction or in a neuroanatomical structure…

She interrupted my musings with a little squeeze of my hand. "I don't think it really matters. The important thing is that I won't cause you any discomfort."

"No," I agreed, feeling lighter than I had since the previous evening, "you won't. Thank you, Bella." I leaned in to kiss her cheek.

She winced slightly as the movement shifted her arm. Gently I pressed my fingers around the burn, testing the blood flow in the tiny capillaries surrounding the site. While the injury was obviously painful, it was not terribly serious. Still, I was anxious to treat it.

"Let me take care of this," I said, standing and offering her my hand.

She rose, and I took her to the kitchen, where I bathed the burn with cool water then applied a mild carbolic solution as a disinfectant. I covered the site lightly with gauze then placed my hand over it, hoping the innate chill of my skin would ease the sting.

Bella thanked me and told me she felt better.

"I think you do, too?" she asked cautiously.

I nodded, keeping my hand on her arm. "Yes."

"I know you're disappointed," she began softly.

I shook my head. "The worst disappointment was believing it might be painful to be near you. I would gladly experience the discomfort; but I was afraid it might cause me to… to break down again. My tolerance—my mental stability—still feels tenuous, and if I lost my grasp again… Bella, I could never subject you to that."

She blinked back tears. "You wouldn't. I mean, I would help you any way that I can."

I drew her into my arms. "You have. You do."

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	19. Chapter 19

It was surprisingly easy to return to our routine. I continued to assist Bella with the farm, although the number of actual tasks was dwindling. The fields were prepared for spring planting. The barn was in good repair. We had readied a garden, and I had begun patching the roof on the house. A short time ago I had perceived these chores as a prelude to preparing the homestead for sale, anticipating that Bella would move into town when I did. Now my work seemed a precursor to another year—perhaps several years—of remote farm life.

I didn't mind much. A small part of me still longed to practice medicine, to heal others and assuage their pain. But Bella's presence in my life mitigated the slight ache I felt at the loss of my profession.

My training was not entirely unused. Bella suffered the occasional mishap—a deep splinter in her palm, a sprained ankle when she stumbled on the porch stairs—and the monthly discomfort experienced by most human women. This latter occurrence mortified her when it quickly became apparent that I was aware of it. I had not meant to embarrass her; I was simply trying to provide her with some comfort when I prepared a hot water bottle and suggested she place it over her abdomen to alleviate the cramping.

She had requested that I remain at my own home for three days following that suggestion. Begrudgingly, I had complied… in the sense that I remained out of her sight for seventy-two hours. Of course I maintained my watch over her.

I continued to puzzle over the conundrum of my immunity to her sensations, too. My scientific and medical training suggested a number of possibilities that could account for the anomaly, and my curiosity built over the weeks following the discovery. Perhaps in part this was due to the mundane nature of the chores I did during the days. I was glad to help Bella, and each glimpse of her while I was in the field or on the roof made the tasks enjoyable. However, they did not satisfy my intellect.

We had not spoken much about the night at the Webers' home. I believe Bella was trying to avoid evoking unpleasant memories for me. I shied away from the recollections, too. However, about two weeks after the incident I discovered that I needed more tar to finish the roof. The rainy season was rapidly approaching, and I would not permit Bella to dwell in a leaky home.

Bella said she would go to town to purchase the tar, as well as a few grocery items. I knew that she was perfectly capable of making the short trip by herself, but I still felt reticent to see her go. Still, the thought of facing other humans who could send me into turmoil with the mere brush of their fingers against my hand left me anxious.

Bella understood this and told me that she would travel as quickly as possible. "I'll leave first thing in the morning and be back in time for lunch," she promised. "You'll barely even notice that I'm gone."

That was colossally untrue, but I had little choice. I was waiting on the porch as soon as she woke the next morning. I had written a letter to Carlisle during the night and asked her to mail it for me.

She drove off before eight. I stood waving at her until she was long out of sight, then I trudged to the barn to sit outside Callie's stall. Her company was better than being alone.

* * *

><p>The sun was at its apex in the November sky, and Bella had not returned yet. I was growing anxious. What if Stanley had been spooked by a snake or rodent and overturned the buggy? What if thugs had noticed the beautiful young woman as she drove away from Madras, alone and unprotected, and followed her? The possibilities were overwhelming.<p>

When I could bear waiting no longer, I sprinted toward town, following the tracks left by the buggy. About a mile away from the homestead, I saw the small blue conveyance drawn by the black horse. Bella sat at the reins, driving at a leisurely pace.

I darted forward, reaching her in a few seconds.

"Edward!" she exclaimed as I slowed, not wanting to frighten the horse. "What are you doing out here?"

"It's getting late," I began to explain. "I was worried…"

She frowned, then her expression softened as she shook her head. "I'm fine. I spent a few minutes longer with Angela than I had planned."

Considerably relieved, I asked, "How is she doing?"

"She's all right, I think. She said she's feeling good and has more energy than she did a couple of weeks ago."

I nodded. "She's getting close to her third trimester. She should feel quite good throughout most of it." I paused for an instant then asked, "How is Ben?"

"He's doing well. His hand is healed." She spoke a little cautiously as she added, "He asked me to thank you for your help."

I climbed into the buggy to sit beside her as she continued to drive. "Do they think me terribly rude?"

"What do you mean?"

"For leaving so abruptly that night…"

"Oh no, not at all. Before we left I told them that we didn't feel right staying when Ben was hurt."

"I didn't realize that… I suppose I should have asked you sooner."

"It doesn't matter. They both sent their regards."

Bella was quiet for a few moments, and I could tell that there was something else on her mind.

"What is it?" I prodded gently. "Did something else happen?"

She sighed. "No, not really. Ben was curious…"

I arched an eyebrow at her. "About what?"

"You told him you'd studied medicine?"

I nodded.

"He wondered about that."

"And what did you tell him?"

"I just said that it was true, that you had studied to be a doctor but had become ill and weren't able to pursue it."

"Thank you, Bella. I appreciate your discretion."

"Of course. I would never tell anyone anything _private_ about you."

We both understood that she was referring to more than my professional background.

"You had some mail," she said, lightening the mood.

I reached for the parcels in the back. As I unwrapped the first, I recalled that I had sent requests for catalogs and my favorite medical journal.

"What is it?" she asked, glancing down at my lap.

"A catalog…"

"Oh." She placed her hand over mine in a gesture of comfort and support. "They'll make good kindling," she said with a little wry smile.

I chuckled at her attempt to lighten the mood. "I suppose so. Still, it wouldn't hurt to have a look and see what's new."

She gave a nod of acknowledgement and urged Stanley forward a little faster. The sky was darkening, and we could both smell rain in the air. I realized that the temperature had dropped, too.

By the time we arrived at the house, heavy rain was falling, and Bella and I were both thoroughly saturated. I told her to go inside and change into dry clothes while I attended to the horse. She hurried inside.

I brought the packages when I entered the house a few minutes later. After I had put the items away, I shed my wet garments and rapidly slipped on a dry shirt and trousers. I had left a few items at the house so that I could wear clean clothing after working in the fields.

Bella was still in her room, and I could hear the rustle of fabric. I could also hear the chattering of her teeth.

"Bella," I called down the hall, "are you all right?"

"Y…yes… just… c…cold."

She had become terribly chilled. Quickly I made a fire in the hearth then walked toward her room. The door was ajar. Her teeth were still clacking together; she was shivering.

"Sweetheart?" I inquired again. "Do you need help?"

"N…no, just… a min…minute."

I waited for an interminable fifty-three seconds before she opened the door. She was wrapped in large, worn flannel dressing gown, and her feet were bare. A dry dress lay across her bed.

"Here, come and sit by the fire," I said, scooping her up in my arms and carrying her swiftly to the parlor.

I had already moved the settee as close to the hearth as I dared. I set her on the small sofa then hurried back to her room to take a pair of thick socks from her dresser. I returned to kneel before her and slide the warm socks onto her icy feet.

"Thank… you."

I smiled up at her. "You're welcome. I'm going to make you some tea."

She nodded gratefully. I prepared the hot beverage and brought it to her. She was warmer; the glow from the fire had helped considerably. She took the mug and sipped slowly, and by the time she was finished her cheeks were pink and her hands were steady.

I pulled the settee back a few inches and sat down, making sure to keep my cool limbs away from her. The rain pounded on the roof, dripping into the bucket I had placed in her father's room to catch the leak. It was cozy in the parlor, though, and Bella and I sat reading for some time. Tentatively I picked up the journal I had ordered while she delved into _Wuthering Heights._

Soon I was engrossed in an article that followed the work of English physicians Bayliss and Starling. They had proposed that hormones act as chemical messengers through which organs regulate bodily functions. This was not a new theory to me; Carlisle's superior senses had told him as much years ago. However, it brought my curiosity about Bella back to the forefront of my mind.

"Edward?" Bella touched my arm.

I looked up at her. "Yes?"

"You've been staring at that same page for twenty minutes. Are you all right?"

I smiled sheepishly. "I was just considering some possibilities…"

"About what?"

"I've been wondering," I began, suddenly worried that she might find my musings discomfiting.

"What?" she nudged, clearly curious.

"You fascinate me," I blurted out rather inelegantly.

"I do?" She laughed lightly. "I think I'm flattered! In what ways?"

"In nearly every way," I replied. "Your mind, your wonderful heart, your amazing humanity…"

She smiled. "Why do I feel as though there's something else?"

She probably already knew what I was thinking. "I'm curious to know why I can't feel your body's sensations," I admitted. "It's something of a medical mystery to me."

"I see. I don't think can help you, since I have absolutely no idea. I suppose I'm just grateful for whatever quirk it is."

"As am I." I took her hands in mine, rubbing my thumbs over her knuckles. "You can feel the coolness of my skin, can't you?" I asked.

She nodded.

"Hmm," I contemplated. "Would you close your eyes for a few moments?"

She gave me a quizzical look but complied without question. Her trust in me was implicit, a fact which left me feeling as warm inside as outside.

I turned her hands so that the palms were up then released her. "Tell me when you feel me touch you."

Slowly I lowered my finger to her palm.

"Now," she said. She kept her eyes closed, and a little smile played at her beautiful lips.

"Tell me what else you feel," I said, waiting several seconds before running the tip of my finger very lightly over her wrist.

"You're tickling my wrist," she reported.

I touched her nose and chin and lips and found that her sensory input was perfectly normal. Of course my skin, despite the fire's warmth, remained cool, so I repeated my assessment with Bella's bookmark. She had no difficulty noting the sensation as soon as the object touched her.

"Would you mind if I tried a few other things?" I asked, my interest thoroughly piqued now.

She appeared slightly dubious yet mildly amused at the same time. "Go ahead," she said.

I had left my medical bag in her father's room, where it was permanent fixture. I had no need for it at my house, and Bella, despite my attempts at vigilance, seemed to require items from it periodically. I retrieved it and set it on the floor. She eyed it warily.

"What are you planning to do?" she asked.

"I'd like to check your reflexes, and assess your cranial nerve function," I replied.

"Um… all right?"

I smiled reassuringly. "It won't hurt, Bella. You know I'd never do anything to cause you pain."

She nodded, and I proceeded with my examination. I tapped at her wrists, elbows, and knees with my patellar hammer, finding a typical response. I assessed her visual field and examined her eyes carefully. I checked her balance and vestibular system, as well as basic motor function. All were within normal limits.

Bella sat cooperatively yet quietly as I continued the tests. I was so immersed in my thoughts that I did not realize for some time that her heart was beating faster than usual. I had just finished assessing her trigeminal nerve—palpating the temporal and masseter muscles as she clenched her jaw per my instructions—when I noticed this. I swept my fingers down to rest them lightly against her carotid artery. The blood was pulsing quickly. When I looked into her eyes, I saw her blinking back tears.

Something I had done had frightened or upset her. Had I hurt her in some way? I had always had an extremely gentle touch with my patients, instantly aware if I was causing even the slightest discomfort by the sensations in my own body. But with Bella, I had to rely on my memories of the correct degree of pressure rather than on more direct feedback. I must have been too rough…

Immediately stricken, I took her face in my hands, examining her jaws for signs of contusions. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry," I uttered.

She blinked at me. "For what?"

"I've hurt you. I wasn't as gentle as I should have been—"

"No, Edward, you didn't hurt me at all," she said quickly.

Keeping my hands upon her cheeks very lightly, I looked into her eyes. "Then what is it? What have I done to upset you?'

"Nothing," she replied softly.

"Were you worried that I was going to do something painful? Truly, Bella, I would never—"

"I know, Edward. I trust you; I've always trusted you."

"What is it, then?"

She inhaled slowly then exhaled in a puff. "Watching you—seeing your expression—I could sense your exhilaration. You were intent, interested, engaged… I've never seen quite that look on your face."

I knew what she was referring to. I had seen it in Carlisle's face many times and felt certain that my own expression paralleled his. During those first few months when I had begun to practice medicine, he had told me often that he had never seen a physician who relished his work as much as I did, with the possible exception of himself.

"Why did that upset you?" I asked, but the moment the words left my mouth I understood. The knowledge that I could not pursue my beloved profession evoked Bella's deep compassion.

She sniffled, and I wiped the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs. "It's all right," I said softly, "really. I'm happy, Bella, as happy as I've ever been."

Her lips pressed together as she tried to suppress a sob. More tears rolled down her cheeks. This time I kissed them away, my lips feather-light against her warm, soft skin. Her fingers threaded through my hair, tugging softly at the strands in the most delightful way.

I kissed her nose and then her chin, and suddenly my mouth was upon hers. Her lips were full and almost searing in their human heat, and her scent was delectable. Her tongue darted out to flick over my lower lip, surprising me and sending a shock of tingling through my body.

With a groan, I pulled back.

"I'm sorry," I nearly panted.

Bella appeared slightly dazed. She was blushing, but her gorgeous mouth was turned up into a shy smile.

Her aroma surrounded me, lush and floral and intoxicating. I scooted back, my foot kicking my bag. Hastily I repacked it then stood.

"I should go," I said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Edward, no," she responded. "I don't want you to go."

"I feel I should, at least for a few hours."

Disappointment washed over her face. "But you'll come back?"

"Of course, Bella. I'll be back first thing in the morning." _Or shortly after you fall asleep_ I added silently.

I took her hand and kissed it softly. Her cheeks were still flushed prettily. Indeed, I was certain I had never seen her look lovelier.

"I'll see you in the morning," I told her as I forced myself to leave the room.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	20. Chapter 20

The afternoon dragged by, and the evening hours were interminable. I sat before my own hearth wondering at my caddish behavior. I had taken advantage of Bella's welcoming nature and precious trust. The kiss was a liberty no gentleman should take with a young lady to whom he was not betrothed or wed. What had come over me?

And the sensations I had experienced were alarming. I understood stimulation and arousal from a scientific standpoint, and I could vaguely recall having such physical feelings as a human in certain situations. I knew, too, that my vampiric nature did not preclude such sensation; more than once I had needed to leave the house while Carlisle and Esme engaged in activities surrounding their wedded bliss. But thus far in my preternatural existence I had not felt such stirrings to any significant degree.

Yet I could not stay away from Bella. I vowed that I would behave in a more gentlemanly fashion, refraining from touching her in more than a fraternal manner. Anything else would be entirely inappropriate at this time.

I decided to permit her some privacy as she slumbered and did not return to her house until shortly before dawn. I stood in the copse for a while then walked to the barn to greet Callie and Stanley. The morning was crisp—quite chilly by human standards—and a light coat of frost glimmered on the ground.

I waited to knock on the door until I heard Bella in the kitchen. Usually she rushed to admit me, taking my hands as I kissed her cheek in greeting. This morning, however, she was walking slowly, and instantly I worried that I had offended her terribly with my boorish behavior.

The door opened, and she smiled up at me, but her expression seemed forced. She still wore her dressing gown; normally she was bathed and dressed when she admitted me to the house. Her eyes were very bright, and her cheeks were quite pink, as was her nose. Her scent was heavenly as always, but there was something slightly amiss, a cloying undertone that I recognized.

"Edward," she said, her voice husky and slightly muffled by the kerchief. "Morning."

She sniffed and lifted a handkerchief to her nose. Bella was ill, and she was running a fever.

"Sweetheart, you're sick!" I exclaimed unnecessarily, stepping inside quickly. I shut the door against the morning chill then wrapped my arm around her back so that I could lead her to her room.

She sneezed as I lifted her to the bed. "No," she protested, "it's just a cold. I don't need to stay in bed." She remained sitting, stubbornly resisting a more comfortable reclining position.

"I'll be the judge of that," I said, pressing my hand over her forehead. Her fever was not high, but it was enough to leave her uncomfortable. "When did you start feeling ill?" I asked, pulling a blanket over her legs.

"During the night," she replied raspily.

I had left her—abandoned her—for the entire night. If I had been vigilant as I should, I might have been able to help her stave off the illness, or at least have succeeded in making her more comfortable. I saw a teacup on her night table and felt a pang as I realized that she had needed to leave the warmth of her bed to enter the cold kitchen at some point.

Another sneeze escaped her, and she shivered a little. I brushed the hair away from her damp brow.

"You need to rest, love," I told her.

"I'm not that sick," she protested nasally. "Besides, Callie needs to be milked, and I have to feed Stanley—"

"Leave that to me," I said immediately. I kissed her forehead and waited until she had leaned back against the pillows, then I hurried outside to attend to the animals.

* * *

><p>I knew objectively Bella was not terribly ill. She was congested, and she developed a cough, but there was no fluid in her lungs, and her temperature never exceeded 100. I could almost hear Carlisle's calm voice telling me, "It's just an ordinary cold; nothing to worry about."<p>

But I did worry, and I made certain that she was well cared for. I prepared soup and tea; I dabbed eucalyptus oil on a cloth to ease her breathing; I carried her to the parlor to curl up before the fire; I massaged her temples gently when I could see that she had a headache. I tended to her every need.

It did not occur to me until several days later, when she was feeling a great deal better, that I had summarily broken my vow to touch her in only the most chaste manner. Granted, many of my efforts had been medically relevant, but the little kisses I placed on her forehead and cheeks went slightly beyond the scope of most physicians' services.

My efforts to keep her mind occupied transcended my professional sphere, too. But I knew how much she enjoyed hearing me play for her, so I lifted my violin to my shoulder several times each day. I also read to her and sometimes hummed quietly as she was falling asleep.

I remained at her house for four days. When it was clear that she was well on the road to recovery, a shroud of gloom settled over me. While I hated seeing her ill, I relished every moment spent with her.

I was preparing to leave after she had eaten her supper on the fifth day. She set her dishes in the sink then turned to me.

"Will you sit with me for a little while?" she asked.

"Of course," I replied without thinking.

She took my hand and led me to the parlor, where we settled on the small sofa. She snuggled against me as she had done a number of times when she was feverish during the previous days.

"Bella," I said, a note of caution in my tone. "I don't wish to urge you into any improprieties," I began.

She rested her warm hand over my still heart. "You aren't. I know you need to leave soon; I just enjoy your company so much. I feel so comfortable when you're here."

"I feel the same way." I kissed her crown.

"One day," she said very, very softly, "perhaps you won't have to leave."

I lifted her chin so that she would look up at me. "Nothing would please me more."

She smiled as her cheeks grew pink. "Me either."

We sat for a long time, entirely content in each other's company.

* * *

><p>When I reached my home that night, I did two things. First I wrote to Carlisle and Esme, asking if they felt it at all possible to travel to Oregon for Christmas. The holiday was only six weeks away, and I wasn't certain that Esme was ready to undertake such a trip, but I wanted to ask.<p>

The second task I undertook with a slight hesitation yet building excitement was to remove a small wooden box from the armoire and retrieve an item from inside. I examined it carefully, deciding that, with a bit of care, it would suffice. I tucked it back into the box.

I gave my letter to Bella the next day without disclosing the contents. She planned another trip to Madras soon, so she would mail it for me.

The days passed pleasantly as November ended and December began. I grew somewhat anxious to receive Carlisle's reply, so when Bella told me during the second week of the month that she would go into town again soon, I was relieved.

She returned amid snow flurries, bundled up against the inclement weather at my insistence. She told me that Angela was doing well and that Ben was almost beside himself with adoration for his wife and unborn child.

"They've decorated the store for the holidays," she shared, smiling a bit wistfully. "In Boise, the streetlamps always had garlands on them, and there were beautiful wreaths on the doors and lanterns in the trees."

A bit hesitantly, I inquired, "Do you want to go home for Christmas?"

"This is my home now," she replied softly.

"But your mother is in Boise…"

She gave a small shake of her head. "She's completely immersed with Phil and his family now. They'll want to start their own traditions."

"Did your mother decorate a Christmas tree when you were young?" I asked.

"Oh yes. It was always a bit overdone and disorganized, but it was certainly festive." She gave me a slightly melancholy smile which shifted to a grin as she told me, "Oh, there was a letter for you!"

She handed me the envelope, and I opened it to read the contents eagerly. I was grinning by the time I had finished.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Carlisle and Esme want to come out here for Christmas."

Her mouth opened in surprise. "Really? You mean here, to see you?"

"Yes. I very much want them to meet you."

I had thought she would be as excited as I was at this happy news, but she appeared concerned, a crease appearing on her pretty brow.

"Bella? What's the matter? Do you not want to meet them?"

"I do," she said hesitantly, "but I'm worried they'll think I'm just… just a farm girl."

"Why would you think that?"

She shrugged diffidently. "They live in the city, and he's a doctor, and I know they have a beautiful, large home and lovely clothes, and highly intelligent minds, and sophisticated tastes—"

"Darling," I said, cupping her cheeks in my hands, "they aren't like that. They're going to adore you, just as I do."

"But I'm…" She bit her lower lip anxiously.

"You're what? Bright, beautiful, compassionate, clever—"

She shook her head. "Not like them—not like you. I'm just a human."

I gathered her into my arms. "You are everything to me, Bella."

"I am?"

"Everything and more." I brushed my lips over hers then kissed her cheeks.

"So you don't think they'll mind me?"

"Mind you? Silly Bella! They are going to love you."

"I hope so."

"I know it."

There was no doubt in my mind that Bella would capture their hearts as surely as she had captured mine.

* * *

><p>The next week was a flurry of activity. Bella wanted to decorate the house for the season, so we went up into the mountains to find a proper Christmas tree and additional boughs to make garlands and wreaths. My favorite part of this trek was carrying her in my arms for a good portion of the time as I negotiated the rough, even ground.<p>

Bella's father had one box of ornaments that he had stashed away in a closet, and she reverently cleaned the fragile, old glass balls. We strung popcorn and cranberries to drape around the tree, too, and the final creation was quite festive and worthy of the holidays.

I loved seeing Bella in the celebratory milieu. She looked particularly beautiful when she sat on the settee near the Christmas tree, her cheeks pink in the glow from the fire. Her sable hair and creamy skin were even lovelier against the deep green of the boughs that decorated the house.

I wanted to shower Bella with gifts; however, I only had one item to give her, and, while it was a very important one, I decided that other presents were needed, too. I considered my options for some time. I could write a note to Angela and ask her to choose the items I had in mind then send them back with Bella. But this would negate most of the surprise, and I wished to do something entirely unexpected that would make the holiday even more special.

So I gathered my courage and set out very early in the morning, intending to reach the store just before it opened for the day. I hoped that I could avoid interacting with anyone aside from Angela and Ben. And, since the weather was quite chilly, I could sheath my hands in gloves, thus protecting myself from sensation even if I did inadvertently come into contact with anyone.

I ran to town from my house. The trip required less than twenty minutes, and I arrived at 7:45 in the morning. I could hear Angela and Ben inside their living quarters, preparing for the day. A bit hesitantly I knocked on the door behind the store.

Ben answered, frowning as he opened the door. However, his expression changed when he saw me. He extended his hand immediately, and I shook it, glad for the soft leather barrier of my gloves.

"Edward!" he exclaimed, "what are you doing here? Is everything all right?"

I nodded. "Yes, everything is just fine. I apologize for the intrusion. I should have waited until you opened the store, but I don't have much time."

"What do you need?" he asked, ushering me into the small foyer.

"I want to buy some gifts for Bella, but I'd like to surprise her. I'm helping her with a few things on the farm, you see, and—"

He grinned. "So you were hoping to sneak in here early and be back before she realizes you're gone."

"Yes."

He clapped a friendly hand against my back. "I think I can help you out with that. Just give me a minute to finish getting dressed, then I'll take you into the store." Over his shoulder, he called out, "Ange! Come say hello to Edward!"

Angela appeared a few moments later. She was slightly flushed, with a hand pressed over the roundness of her belly. She had told Bella that the baby was due in March, placing her at 25 weeks minimum. She appeared closer to 20 to my professional eye. Perhaps she had miscalculated…

"Angela," I greeted her warmly, taking her hands in mine. I could barely feel the warmth of her skin through my gloves, and no other sensations came to me. "How are you feeling?"

She smiled up at me. "Well."

"Are you eating enough?" She was a slender woman, and it did not appear that she had gained any significant weight aside from that of the baby.

"I think so. It's hard to eat too much at one time, though; the little one seems to take up a lot of room."

I nodded then lowered my gaze momentarily, wishing I had the courage to remove one of my gloves and place my bare hand against her skin. Her body might tell me something that her words would not. Still, the baby's heartbeat sounded strong and healthy, and Angela's was steady, too. She did not appear to be in poor health.

"How is Bella?" she asked.

"She's fine."

"This must be a difficult time for her," Angela said softly. "Even though she hadn't spent Christmas with her father in years, I imagine she misses him…"

We had set a small wreath upon Charlie's grave, and I knew that Angela's words were true. But Bella remained in good spirits most of the time, and when she seemed a bit melancholy I always did my best to cheer her.

"I think she's managing," I replied. "I hope to make the holiday as merry as I can for her."

Angela's gentle smile showed her kind thoughts. "I know it will be special for her."

"To that end," I continued, "I'd like to purchase a few items for her…"

She grinned. "What did you have in mind?"

She, Ben, and I entered the store, and I found a number of things I wished to buy for Bella. Angela approved of all of my purchases, and I believe a smile remained upon her face the entire time I was in the store.

Parcels on the counter, I paid then bid the amiable shopkeepers good bye.

"Take care of yourself," I told Angela.

"Thank you, Edward," she replied. "Wish Bella a merry Christmas from both of us."

"I will. Thank you."

I left just as the first customer was walking up to the door. I hurried out of town then sprinted back to my house, where I stowed the gifts. Then I dashed off to see Bella, eager as ever at the prospect of spending the day with her.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	21. Chapter 21

Carlisle and Esme were scheduled to arrive on December 23. They planned to take the train from St. Paul to Portland; he told me he would arrange a private car, providing Esme with relative isolation from the other passengers. In Portland he would purchase a horse and carriage, then they would spend the next day traveling to my modest home.

Much as I hated to be away from Bella, I decided it would be best if I greeted Carlisle and Esme alone. There was still a great deal I wished to tell them about Bella before they met her. So I returned to my house before dark and waited.

I heard the horses when they were perhaps half a mile away. I stoked the fire and unnecessarily tidied the room as I listened to the wheels turning over the hard earth. Finally I stepped outside just as the carriage came into view.

It was a handsome conveyance, fully enclosed, and two sturdy horses pulled it. Carlisle sat at the reins, Esme snuggled next to him, her arm through his. The moment they saw me, both waved, grins spreading across their faces.

Esme hopped down lithely from the moving carriage and darted to me. Immediately I enveloped her in my arms.

"Edward," she breathed, "oh, how I've missed you! Are you well?"

She looked up, lifting her hands to my face. For an instant I tensed as her skin touched mine, but of course I felt nothing.

"I am," I replied, smiling. "And you?"

She nodded. "I'm fine—better than the last time you saw me."

"I suppose I could say the same," I responded with a wry grin.

Carlisle had stopped the horses, looping the reins to a tree. He loped forward gracefully, always an elegant figure. Esme stepped aside, and he pulled me into his arms.

"Son. I am so very glad to see you."

"As am I you," I said sincerely. "How was the trip?"

"Uneventful," he answered with a flicker of a smile toward Esme. I knew he had been worried about her control, but it seemed she had done well.

"Would you like to hunt?" I immediately offered. "There are deer in abundance—"

"Thank you, but we hunted last night, and we stopped for a quick bite after we left Portland," Esme said. "I think we're fine for now."

"Then please come inside," I offered.

Esme enjoyed seeing the furniture she had ordered for me, and Carlisle admired my handiwork with the hearth. We chatted amiably, casually, for some time. Then Carlisle went back to the carriage to bring in their luggage. Esme took one of the bags into the small back room, where she wished to change her clothes and comb out her hair.

Carlisle and I stood before the fire. "You look well," he told me.

"I am."

"Have you had any interactions with others, aside from Miss Swan?" he asked, his tone a mixture of both professional and paternal interest.

"A few," I replied with slight reticence.

He read my expression and tone perfectly. "Tell me about it, son," he encouraged gently.

I sighed. "I suppose I should start with Bella. When I met her, I had not been in the presence of another human in over a month. I was feeling relatively good, clear-headed and calm. I spoke with her several times but had no close contact. The same was true for those few individuals I met when I went to town to mail the first letter to you. Several days later I happened to pass Bella's house and found her very ill. She had developed septicaemia, from a cut on her leg—"

"Edward! You didn't try to treat her?" he asked, visibly shaken by the thought.

"When I first touched her, I felt nothing," I explained quickly, wishing to allay his fear as soon as possible. "She had a fever of 103, and the wound was, of course, very painful, but I experienced none of her sensations in my own body. I attended her until she was well, and never once did I feel any physical discomfort."

"How can that be?" he queried.

"I thought I had lost my ability," I replied. "It seemed the only logical explanation. Perhaps my breakdown had damaged the skill irrevocably… I assumed it had. Unfortunately, I was wrong."

He shook his head in confusion. "I don't understand—"

"Carlisle, as far as I can determine, Bella is the only individual upon whom my skill doesn't work. I felt pain and discomfort from several of the townspeople subsequent to my interactions with Bella, yet when I touch her I feel absolutely none of the sensations she is experiencing."

"That is fascinating," he commented. "Have you any idea why?"

"To the best of my knowledge, she feels pain normally, and she has no anomalies in nerve conduction." I gave him a lop-sided grin as I finished, "She is a charming mystery to me."

"You are very fond of her," he stated.

"I am."

He placed his hand upon my shoulder, his expression shifting to worry once again. "Edward, you must be cautious. Humans are so fragile—"

"She knows what I am," I interjected.

Carlisle blinked in utter astonishment. "She… does?"

I nodded. "She figured it out, Carlisle. She's extremely bright and perceptive, and her compassion is astounding. She accepts me completely, with no fear. Being with her—being able to form a connection with another being—I feel it has made me whole again."

"Oh son…" He still appeared troubled. "I can see how much you care for her, but you must realize that there are considerations—"

I lifted a hand. "Please, Carlisle, just meet her with an open mind. After you've spent some time with her, then we can recommence this conversation, if you feel it's necessary. But I would ask you to defer any judgments or opinions until you've become acquainted with Bella."

"All right. And when will we make the pleasure of her acquaintance?"

"Tomorrow morning."

We passed the night in pleasant discourse. Carlisle told me about his work at the hospital and several of the more interesting cases he had treated. Esme described her latest decorating projects and shyly admitted that she had begun painting with oils. Carlisle complimented her work, telling me that she was a talented artist. I am certain she would have blushed if she were able.

Both Esme and Carlisle asked me more questions about Bella. I explained the circumstances surrounding her recent arrival in Oregon, eliciting Esme's deep sympathy when I mentioned Charlie's death. Esme had overheard my previous conversation with Carlisle, of course, and she was interested to know more about my abilities, or lack thereof, with Bella.

I noticed Esme's secret smile early in the conversation. Each time I mentioned Bella, she pursed her lips thoughtfully. I suppose it was obvious to her how I felt about Bella, but she refrained from saying anything aloud.

As the night wore on, our conversation became more candid. I admitted to Carlisle and Esme that I had considered practicing medicine again when I believed I had lost my ability. I believe Esme would have wept if she could when I expressed my disappointment at learning that my beloved profession would remain closed to me. Carlisle's sympathy flowed through his touch, and for a moment I thought I felt a twinge in my own chest.

As the sky began to lighten, my mood improved considerably. I would see Bella soon, and Carlisle and Esme would get to meet the woman I loved. Carlisle and I changed into slightly dressier clothes, and I attempted to tame my unruly hair with vigorous combing. Shortly after 9:00 we climbed into the carriage and drove off toward Bella's home. I could not recall feeling so excited since I was a child on Christmas morning.

* * *

><p>I could hear Bella's frantic heartbeat from the porch. Despite my reassurances, she remained anxious about meeting my surrogate parents. I knocked on the door, and she opened it, her eyes quickly moving from Carlisle's handsome form to Esme's beautiful face.<p>

"Dr. and Mrs. Cullen," she said softly, "welcome." She wore her emerald wool dress, and her hair was pinned up in a very pretty twist at the back of her neck. Tiny pearl teardrops hung from her ears. She had never looked lovelier to me.

She held out her hand, and Carlisle took it, lifting it to kiss her knuckles gently. "It is a pleasure to meet you, dear," he said. His smile was genuine and warm.

Bella clasped Esme's hand next, earning another smile and more words of greeting. I was grinning as I watched the proceedings, and once the introductions had been completed, I bent to kiss Bella's warm cheek.

"Happy holidays," I told her.

She smiled, and I could see that much of her tension had dissipated. She showed us inside, taking everyone to the small parlor. Esme admired the tree, examining the ornaments with interest. Soon we were all seated, Carlisle and Esme on the settee, while Bella and I sat in the chairs I had brought in from the kitchen.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Bella asked graciously. Then a blush spread over her cheeks. "I mean, is there anything you… need? Um, I've seen deer and bobcats in the woods…"

Carlisle chuckled. "We've already eaten, but we appreciate the offer."

"Yes," Esme added, "thank you for thinking of us. It's very kind of you."

I reached for Bella's hand and gave her a smile. I noticed Carlisle's eyes upon our joined hands. His professional interest was piqued.

"Edward has been such a wonderful help to me," Bella was saying softly. "I don't know what I would have done without him. He is the kindest individual I have ever met."

Esme and Carlisle smiled with pride. After a pleasant conversation about Boise and St. Paul, I was prevailed upon to play my violin. Esme said she had missed my music terribly, an entreaty I could not deny.

I performed a variety of Christmas carols and seasonal hymns, earning applause and praise from my small—and admittedly biased—audience. Still, the joy my music brought them was a great pleasure to me.

I insisted that Bella eat when it was lunchtime. She was embarrassed by the prospect, whispering to me that she felt it quite rude when she had nothing to offer my parents. I told her that I would show them around the property and introduce them to Callie and Stanley, giving her a few minutes of privacy in which to obtain some sustenance. She agreed, and I took Carlisle and Esme outside.

We strolled past the fields then looped back to the barn. Callie greeted the guests with a round of lowing and took a step back when she saw me.

"I don't think she's ever quite forgiven me for my first efforts to milk her," I commented.

Carlisle and Esme laughed at the image I painted as I tried to describe my initial interactions with the gentle cow. Then we walked along the edge of the copse, finally nearing Charlie's grave.

We paused by the small hill, and I told them a bit about Mr. Swan. Carlisle bowed his head reverently as his lips moved in prayer, while Esme murmured sympathetic words. As we strolled back toward the house at a very leisurely pace, Esme commented on the remoteness of the homestead.

"She must feel so lonely out here," she said.

"She's not often alone," I replied immediately. Perhaps I had not made that clear earlier.

"How much time do you spend here?" asked Carlisle.

"I'm with her all day and most of the evening," I replied.

They exchanged glances, but I could not decipher the underlying meaning. We were nearing the house, but I paused to ask, "What do you think of her?"

"She's lovely," Esme answered immediately.

"She's very charming," Carlisle added, "and seems quite bright. She's comfortable with us, too—which I honestly wasn't expecting."

"I told you she's very special," I uttered.

Esme nodded and looped her arm through mine as we continued on to the house. Bella had finished eating and was back in the parlor. When we entered, she was kneeling before the Christmas tree. She stood, turning to us with a smile.

"This is a wonderful piece of property," Carlisle said.

"Thank you," she replied.

Her gaze flicked beneath the tree, and I saw that several neatly wrapped presents had appeared. I gave her a quizzical look.

Bella bent to pick up the presents, then, blushing prettily, handed a gift to Carlisle and another to Esme. "Merry Christmas," she said a bit shyly.

"Oh Bella!" Esme exclaimed, truly surprised, "my goodness, how very thoughtful of you."

"Thank you, dear," said Carlisle.

Bella smiled and gestured toward the settee with a softly spoken, "Please."

My parents sat, and Esme carefully unwrapped her presents. Inside a small, flat box was a linen handkerchief, beautifully embroidered with the letter _E_ surrounded by delicate flowers.

"It's lovely!" Esme said, beaming up at Bella. "Thank you so much."

"I didn't know what you'd like," Bella began a bit reticently.

"I adore flowers," Esme replied warmly. "This is exquisite work."

Bella's blush deepened as she murmured, "Thank you."

Carlisle removed the paper from his gift. I was curious to see what Bella had gotten for him; I hadn't realized she had prepared presents for either him or Esme, so I was as surprised as they were.

Carlisle's gift was a bookmark. It was made of soft leather, but the edges were lined with heavy, deep gold thread, and a _C_ had been meticulously stitched into the top half.

"Did you make this?" he asked.

Bella nodded. "It came from one of my father's belts. I thought… well, you're Edward's father, so it just seemed right that one father would share with another."

Carlisle rose and pulled Bella into a gentle hug. "Thank you. This is the nicest gift I have ever received."

Esme was blinking, her tender-hearted nature bubbling forth even though her eyes could not produce tears. The attention clearly embarrassed Bella, so I drew her toward me with a hand at her waist.

"Thank you, love," I whispered. "This means a great deal to them."

She smiled up at me. Carlisle had not returned to his seat. He excused himself and left the house, while Esme continued to admire the handiwork on her handkerchief and on Carlisle's bookmark.

I wondered when Bella had found the time to work on the delicate projects without my awareness. She must have used those scant, late hours after I left and before she retired for the night.

Carlisle returned shortly with two packages in his hands.

"Merry Christmas, Bella," he said affably and he handed the gifts to her.

"Oh!" Now it was her turn to be surprised. "You shouldn't have! I wasn't expecting anything…"

"It's our pleasure," Esme said, scooting over so that Bella could sit beside her.

Bella was anxious, and I knew she worried that my parents had been too extravagant with her. I felt a bit concerned, too, knowing that she would be mortified at the thought of their spending any significant amounts of money on her.

She unwrapped the first present with slightly shaking hands. Inside, she found a thin book—a volume of poetry by Emily Dickinson.

"She's one of my favorites," Esme said. "I wasn't sure if you were familiar with her, but I find her imagery just lovely."

Bella nodded. "I've read a few of her poems; I liked them very much. Thank you." Her words were brief, but her gratitude was sincere.

She opened the second package. The small box contained a decorative comb. Delicate blue and white silk flowers adorned the piece at the top.

"It's lovely," Bella said, admiring the flowers. "Thank you so much."

"May I put it in your hair?" Esme asked.

Bella nodded, and Esme tucked the comb at the top of the twist then urged Bella to turn so that we could all see it.

"It's perfect," I proclaimed.

Bella, of course, was blushing again. But her pleasure was evident. She hugged Esme and thanked her and Carlisle again.

We spent another hour visiting, then Esme and Carlisle said that they wanted to take a drive before dark. After thanking Bella for her hospitality, they departed, telling me they would see me in the morning. I knew they planned to spend the night outside, celebrating the holiday privately before we all convened again.

Bella and I stood on the porch, waving as they drove away.

"They're wonderful," she said.

"They are. And they think the same about you."

"Really?" Her brow furrowed. "Are you sure?"

I smiled. "Yes, Bella, I am certain."

She exhaled slowly.

"I never had a single doubt," I told her.

We went back inside, where I kept her company as she prepared a light supper for herself then ate it. I stoked up the fire and urged her to come and sit with me on the settee. I had secreted several gifts behind her books, and now I retrieved them and set them before her.

"Edward, you shouldn't have," she said, but I could see the delight in her eyes.

"Open them," I encouraged with a smile.

Grinning, she unwrapped the first present. It was a box of lilac-scented soap, a minor but well-deserved luxury for her. She removed the lid and inhaled slowly. "Mmm, it smells wonderful," she murmured. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," I replied.

She opened the next package. Inside was a pair of butter-soft kidskin gloves, one of the nicest items available at the Webers' store. Bella wore knitted gloves that I knew were not terribly warm, and I did not wish for her hands to feel chilled. I slid the gloves onto her small hands, glad that they fit perfectly.

She was beaming as she removed the paper from the third gift. It was a tin of imported anise biscuits. She laughed and removed the lid to sample one, reporting that it was delicious.

The last present was a cashmere scarf. This item had come from St. Paul, purchased by Esme at my written request. The soft, warm fabric was dove gray, which complimented Bella's coloring nicely. She caressed the cashmere and told me that it was too extravagant, but after I wrapped it around her neck she smiled and thanked me.

I leaned in to kiss her cheek. "You're very welcome."

"Wait right here," she said, standing then crouching to reach around behind the Christmas tree. She pulled out three additional gifts.

"For me?" I asked, once again surprised.

She nodded and sat down beside me again, passing one of the presents to me. It was very light, and when I removed the paper I found a thin velvet sleeve.

"It's for your bow," she explained briefly.

"Did you make it?" I asked.

"Yes. Is it all right?"

I kissed her cheek again. "It's perfect."

The next item was a book, a collection of Keats' poetry.

"I didn't see this one on your shelves," she said.

"No, I don't have this volume. Thank you, Bella. Keats is among my favorite poets."

She smiled. "I remember your telling me that."

Knowing that she had spent her limited funds, as well as taken the time to order the book for me, I had to kiss her other cheek in appreciation.

Her final gift to me was a soft, cotton hand towel upon which she had embroidered my initials surrounded by a handsome diamond pattern. She had used sliver and blue thread, interspersing the strands to give the embroidery a slight shimmer.

"It reminds me of your skin in the sunshine," she told me with a confidential smile.

"I love it," I responded, kissing her hands and forehead.

"Merry Christmas, Edward," she said, cuddling into my embrace.

"Merry Christmas, my beautiful Bella," replied, holding her warm, soft body in my arms, relishing the feel of her.

My eyes wandered to the presents strewn around us, and I smiled as I thought about the gift yet to come. In the morning, I would offer her one more gift, the most important I had ever given.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	22. Chapter 22

I returned to my home shortly before midnight. Esme and Carlisle were not back yet, but I did not expect them for some time. They drove up just after three A.M., both glowing with joy. Clearly they had enjoyed each other's company immensely.

We exchanged our own gifts in the privacy of my house. Esme and Carlisle were as generous as ever, showering me with clothing, books, a new watch, and a camera. Rather shyly, Esme gave me one of her paintings, too. It was a portrait of Carlisle, and it captured his essence perfectly.

There was little I could offer either of them; options at the Webers' store were quite limited and lacked the quality to which they were accustomed. So I had gathered and pressed some local flowers for Esme, arranging them within the glass surrounded by a small frame. She appeared delighted with the gift and told me that she would display it on the mantle in St. Paul so that she would think of me each time she saw it.

I gave Carlisle a piece of sheet music. It was a song I had composed for him that I hoped expressed my gratitude and affection for him. I performed the song on my violin so that he could hear it, and he told me he was eager to play it on his piano. His skilled hands were nearly as adroit upon the ivory keys as they were in a surgical suite.

As dawn approached, I grew restless. I was anxious to return to Bella's house, but I knew I needed to wait until morning. Carlisle and Esme noticed my increasingly agitated state, questioning it with gentle concern.

"This is my first Christmas with Bella," I said rather obliquely. "I'm just excited, I suppose."

"Didn't you already exchange gifts?" Esme asked.

I nodded. "Yes, but I have one more present to give her. I hope she'll like it…"

"What is it?" my mother inquired.

"Jewelry," I replied.

Esme's expression shifted, a twinkle in her eye. However, she kept her suspicions to herself, only saying, "You're very fond of her."

"I am," I replied.

"Edward," Carlisle asked quite seriously, "have you fallen in love with her?"

I took a slow breath then released it. "Yes."

"Oh son…"

The sky was gray now; dawn was approaching. I could wait no longer. I sprang to my feet and darted to the armoire, where I removed a small box.

"Please make yourselves at home," I said peremptorily. "I'll see you later tonight."

With those brief words, I dashed off. I arrived at the copse much too early to approach the house, but knowing I was close to Bella helped me to feel slightly calmer. I settled against a tree and waited until she had gone into the barn to attend to the animals. Then I slipped into the house and prepared a pot of tea for her.

When she returned, she was surprised yet pleased to find me in the kitchen, a cup in my hand.

"Merry Christmas," I told her, kissing her cheek.

She smiled up at me and kissed my cheek, too. "Merry Christmas, Edward."

We sat at the table while she drank her tea, then I suggested that we walk out to Charlie's grave. She seemed touched by the idea and accompanied me to the small hill. We stood before the headstone, heads bowed, for several long moments.

"I wish I could have met him," I told her earnestly.

"Me, too. I think he would have liked you."

"I would have liked to tell him how I feel about you," I said softly, taking her hand.

She blinked at the tears in her eyes, then, after another minute or so, I wrapped my arm around her waist and took her back inside. The sky was overcast, leaving the small parlor dim. So I added a log to the fire and lit the candles on the mantle, casting the room in a soft glow.

Bella was seated on the little sofa, and I made my way toward her slowly. She looked up at me with a curious expression, which shifted to confusion when I knelt upon one knee before her.

I took her hand in mine. "There is one more gift I wish to give you," I said, my voice slightly husky.

"Edward, you've already been so generous—"

"Please, love, let me finish," I said, my anxiety suddenly peaking.

She nodded and gave me a small smile.

"Bella," I continued, "you are the most wonderful individual I have ever met. Your kindness, compassion, understanding, intelligence, vibrancy, and beauty continue to astound me, and I believe I am the luckiest creature on Earth to know you. You have brought absolute joy to my life, and I hope I have brought happiness to yours—"

"You have," she whispered, her eyes growing damp again.

I smiled, her gentle words mitigating some of my apprehension. "The gift I offer you today—and for every day of my existence—is my heart." I paused for an instant to reach into my pocket, removing the small box and opening it. I removed the little item then took her hand again. "Bella, my love, my darling, my own heart, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"

I slid my mother's ring onto her delicate finger. The diamonds glittered in the firelight, and I lifted her hand to kiss it.

"Edward," she breathed, "oh, Edward!" Her heart was racing, and her breaths were coming in little gasps.

Suddenly I felt terrified. I had upset her. I had taken this step—this liberty—entirely too soon.

"Are you…" she inhaled shakily, "Are you asking me to marry you?"

"Yes," I almost squeaked.

For one long moment, her expression remained frozen, and then a smile spread across her face. "Yes, Edward, yes."

I drew her into my arms, kissing her hair, her brow, her cheeks, and soon my lips were upon hers, and the warmth of her mouth filled mine as my body thrummed delightfully.

"Mmm," she murmured, pulling away. "Need… to breathe," she panted.

Embarrassed, I realized that I had been kissing her for well over a minute. She was flushed and gasping for air. I took her hands and apologized profusely.

Once she had caught her breath, she laughed. "It's all right, Edward. You're just going to have to remember that I'm human, and sometimes I will need to take a breath."

"I'm sorry, love," I repeated.

"I'm not." She leaned forward and kissed me again.

* * *

><p>Esme's romantic nature must have alerted her to my plan, because she and Carlisle arrived at Bella's house in the afternoon, despite my assurance that I would see them in the evening.<p>

Esme's excitement was evident as they walked up to the porch, while Carlisle remained more stoic. I opened the door to admit them, ushering them into the parlor once again.

"We have some happy news to share," I said after we had exchanged holiday greetings.

Bella's cheeks grew pink immediately, and she glanced down at her left hand. I took her right hand and lifted it to my lips to kiss it gently. Esme was almost bubbling over with exhilaration.

"I have asked Bella to be my wife," I said summarily yet not without joy, "and she has done me the great honor of accepting."

Esme lifted her hands to clasp them over her heart. "You're going to be married! Oh, how wonderful!"

She hugged Bella, and Carlisle shook my hand. However, I sensed some reticence in his expression. Still, he congratulated Bella warmly and told her he would welcome her as a daughter.

Esme was immediately preoccupied with wedding ideas and details; she and Bella began to speak. Carlisle motioned for me to follow him, so we stepped outside and began strolling toward the trees.

"I've never seen you so happy," he commented, but his tone remained neutral.

"I've never been this happy," I confirmed.

"You love her very much."

"Yes, more than I ever imagined was possible. Now I understand what you and Esme have found in each other."

This brought a small smile to his face, but it lasted for only a few seconds.

"Carlisle," I questioned, confused by his dour mood, "are you not happy for me?"

"I am, son, more than you can possibly know. But…" He seemed to gather his thoughts as his gaze wandered up to the gray sky.

"What is it?" I prodded. "You said you're fond of Bella—you told her you would welcome her as a daughter—"

"Both of which are entirely true," he said. "I'm just concerned…worried that you haven't thought this through entirely." He emphasized the final word.

I shook my head, my mind resisting his implication.

"Son," he said gently, placing a hand upon my shoulder, "have you truly considered the future—twenty, thirty, forty years from now?"

"I don't care," I replied. "I will love Bella for her entire life, however long that may be."

"I don't doubt that. But she will age; she won't be with you forever."

"I will cherish the years we have."

"Of course you will. But you need to be certain that Bella is aware of the challenges you will both face. She will grow older; you will not. She is human, susceptible to illness and injury, while you are immutable…"

I took a slow breath. "I'll discuss it with her. She's an intelligent woman, so I imagine she has already thought about it."

"Perhaps. But sometimes love can blind us so that all we see is the present. I just want to be certain that you can both look ahead and understand that your marriage will be different from any she has ever seen or heard about. Yours will be entirely _unique_."

"You think I'm making a mistake," I said glumly, a hint of resentment in my tone.

"Not necessarily. I would never begrudge you happiness. But you must realize that it can't be forever; it is only for a little while, at least in the context of our existences."

"Would you think it preferable that I never experience such happiness?" I asked.

"No, absolutely not."

He embraced me, and though I stiffened at first, soon I accepted his arms around me. He only wanted the best for me, and I could not fault him for that.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	23. Chapter 23

**Note: **_Once again, I'd like to extend a very special thank you to all who have left reviews. I am grateful for your support and feedback. That's what keeps me posting!_

* * *

><p>Carlisle and Esme remained in Oregon for two more days, then they departed. Esme and Bella had grown quite close during their brief acquaintance. Esme's calm, loving demeanor comforted her and offered her a sense of maternal attention that she had found lacking in her own mother.<p>

My conversation with Carlisle did not preclude me from setting a wedding date with Bella. We decided that we would be married at the beginning of April. She did not want to have a large, extravagant wedding; a small ceremony with just my parents was all she desired. I was happy to marry her in any setting, just so long as she would become my wife.

My excitement, however, remained tempered by Carlisle's concerns, and eventually I decided that I should voice them to Bella. Yet somehow the opportunity seemed to elude me. Each time I thought to broach the topic, her laugh, caress, or smile would distract me.

Our evenings usually consisted of time spent before the fire reading, talking, and exchanging gentle kisses and caresses. I adored the feel of her warm, full lips against mine, and I delighted in the tingling sensations that skittered through my body when her lips parted and her tongue darted out to dare to touch mine.

Sometimes I found my hands upon her waist or moving up over her ribs, and I had to stop myself and pull back. Bella's small hands would often tangle in my hair or stroke over my neck, and occasionally her fingers would brush over my thigh, or her leg would press against mine.

But we always managed to rein ourselves in. Soon we would be wed, and our hearts and bodies would join inextricably. I relished the thought and anticipated the day.

One evening in late January our kisses became slightly more passionate, and I found my fingers inside the collar of Bella's blouse. The heat of her skin was delicious, and I lowered my head to kiss her neck, my hand pulling away the fabric to expose her clavicle. My lips pressed over the narrow, delicate bone. Her scent was intoxicating, and I nuzzled into her.

She made a small noise and flinched. Immediately I drew back.

"Bella? What's wrong?" I asked, worried that the coolness of my flesh had chilled her.

She shook her head. "Nothing."

But her heart was racing still, and she lifted a hand to rub at her shoulder.

"Have I hurt you?" I asked in alarm.

"No—I'm fine," she replied.

However, I knew her well enough to realize that she was not being entirely truthful with me.

"Darling, tell me," I entreated. My eyes moved to her shoulder and the hint of skin that remained exposed. Redness marred her creamy flesh. "Let me see," I said, instantly moving aside the fabric.

"It's all right," she protested feebly. "I think you just… maybe there was just a little bit of pressure."

I ran my fingers over her clavicle and scapula, dreading the damage I might find. However, there were no fractures, and I could not smell any significant bleeding beneath her skin.

She reached up to grasp my wrist. "Really, Edward, you didn't hurt me."

"But I did. You cried out—I was too rough."

"You didn't mean to be."

Her words did little to assuage me. Still distressed, I tried to explain, "It's just that I can't feel what you do. I'm afraid it's made me careless. I'm so sorry, love."

"You needn't be. We both just need to be a bit more careful."

Gravely I replied, "But I could injure you, Bella, very seriously. Do you have any idea how strong I am?"

She nodded. "I've seen you working in the field… But you won't hurt me, now that you're aware. I know you'll be gentle, just as you have always been."

I shook my head, Carlisle's words echoing through my mind. "Bella, you have to understand… I'm not human."

"I know that," she replied quietly.

"I'm so much stronger than a human man; but that's not the half of it."

"I know," she repeated. "Please, you don't need to say anything more."

"Yes, I do," I uttered. "I should have said something before. We need to talk about this."

"Edward, no." She pressed her fingers over my lips. "I understand that you're different. I realize that you aren't human, and that there will be times when this will affect us. But I don't care; it doesn't matter to me. I just want to be with you."

"And I with you," I murmured, tenderly taking her fingers in mine and kissing her wrist. Her pulse danced beneath my lips, a testament to the life flowing through her. But for how long? If we were very lucky, we would have seventy or eighty years together, a mere moment in my ostensibly eternal existence. I closed my eyes and exhaled a sigh.

"Don't feel sad," she said softly. "It's going to be wonderful. Let's enjoy our life together for as long as we can."

I felt there was a veiled subtext in her words, but when I looked at her again, all I saw was absolute adoration in her face. It was enough for now.

* * *

><p><em> To be continued...<em>


	24. Chapter 24

The first two weeks of February were bitterly cold, and snow covered the ground. I made sure that Bella had ample firewood and warm blankets, and I tended to the animals during the most frigid hours so that she would not need to leave the shelter of the house.

Strong wind accompanied a storm on the night of February 13. I could hear the howling from inside my own home, where I still retreated for a few long hours each night. I knew that Bella was snug and safe inside the sturdy house, but still I could not suppress the feeling of apprehension that knotted my stomach when the fierce wind shook the boards all around me.

I returned to Bella's homestead well before dawn. As soon as I stepped from the copse, I saw the open barn door. Images of Bella lying unconscious on the ground flashed through my mind. Immediately I called her name and darted to the barn.

Stanley was pacing in his stall as icy air whipped around him. Callie's stall door was open, and the cow was nowhere in sight. I shot outside, my eyes instantly fixing upon the house. The front door swung back and forth, slamming against the wall with each gust of wind.

"Bella!" I cried again.

I was inside the house in seconds, sprinting from room to room, listening frantically for her heartbeat. The house was empty.

I ran outside, my sharp gaze scanning the fields, the trees, the hill. There, well beyond the farther field, I saw Bella struggling with the cow, attempting to lead the frightened animal back toward shelter.

I dashed to the field, instantly taking the rope lead from Bella. She was clearly exhausted and chilled, her skin pale and her hair tangled all around her. She wore only her nightgown and dressing gown and thick socks upon her feet. The moment she saw me, relief washed over her features.

"Edward," she breathed. "I'm so glad you're here. The barn door blew open, and she got out of her stall. She was scared by the wind."

"Are you all right?" I asked, inhaling carefully to check for any scent of blood.

She nodded. "I'm fine. Help me get Callie back into the barn?"

"Of course."

The cow was still very skittish, and I was worried that she would injure one of her legs as her hooves slid on the icy ground. Bella rubbed her hand over Callie's neck, speaking gently to her as I began urging her forward. The walk to the barn was slow, but eventually we had Callie back in her stall. I secured the latch then inspected the barn door. One hinge had come loose.

"Let me fix this so it doesn't happen again," I said. "Go inside and get warmed up, love."

I completed the repair quickly then hurried into the house. Bella was sitting on the rug before the hearth; the embers still glowed faintly, emitting some warmth. I added two small logs then sank down beside her.

"Is Callie all right?" she asked.

I nodded. "She's munching oats. How are you?"

"Fine—just a little chilly, but the fire's helping."

She rubbed at her arms. I shot to her room to retrieve a quilt, wrapping it snugly around her shoulders. She thanked me, snuggling more deeply into the blanket. The wind continued to howl outside, but the fire warmed the entire room, leaving my skin and clothing pleasantly warm, too. It was temporary, but I was grateful that I could now hold Bella and stroke her cheeks and hair.

The gale was so loud that I did not hear the sound of a horse's hooves until it was quite near the house. Surprised, I stood, saying, "There's someone here."

"What?" Bella got to her feet, too. "But it's barely dawn… and who'd be out in weather like this?"

We both peered out the window. A rider was dismounting from the gelding, his hair whipped about by the wind. He wore a coat but no hat, and his stiff movements told me that he was chilled to the bone, likely suffering the early stages of hypothermia.

"Good heavens," Bella gasped, "I think it's Ben!"

He tied to horse to the porch post with clumsy hands. Bella and I hastened to the door, opening it just as he stumbled up the step.

"Ben!" Bella cried. "What are you doing out here? It's freezing. Come inside."

I quickly moved to him and wrapped my arm around his shoulders, urging him into the warmth of the house. His teeth were chattering, and his eyes were unfocused. I helped him to the parlor then eased him down before the fire. His mouth moved, but he could not seem to get the words out.

"It's all right," I soothed, pulling off his gloves. I began to press my fingers over his wrist to feel his pulse, but Bella's hand shot out to stop me.

"Edward," she whispered urgently, "don't."

I gave a nod of acknowledgment, listening to his heartbeat and respiration instead. His heart pounded frantically, and he was close to hyperventilating. His mouth continued to twist and contort before he finally stammered a single word.

"An…gela," he stuttered, blinking rapidly.

Bella was kneeling at his side now. "Angela?" she repeated. "What's wrong?" She was growing more alarmed by the moment.

"B—baby," he ground out.

"Take slow breaths, Ben," I encouraged gently, placing my hand against his chest. "In… now out… in… and out. Just steady your breathing, then you'll be able to speak."

Ben's fists were clenched tightly. Bella took one of his hands in hers, trying to comfort him despite her burgeoning fear. After a minute or so, his respiration calmed, and he was able to speak, albeit haltingly.

"Angela," he said again. "She's in trouble."

"The baby?" Bella questioned.

He nodded, swallowing as his eyes filled with tears. "Something's wrong. It's been over twenty-four hours. Her pains started yesterday, around 3:00 AM… but the baby won't come. She's hurting so much, and she's very weak… My God, I can't lose her—"

"Have her waters broken?" I asked quickly.

He nodded. "A couple of hours after her pains began."

"Is anyone with her?"

"My mother, and Mrs. Withers. She's borne ten children of her own and has helped most of the other women in town with theirs, too. But she doesn't know what to do. I wired for the doctor in Bend, but he can't get to Madras for five or six hours." He blinked and choked back a sob. "I don't think Angela can last that long."

"Oh Ben," Bella said, her own eyes bright with tears.

Ben's gaze met mine, and he grasped my forearm tightly. "You've studied medicine. Please Edward, is there anything you can do? Can you help her?"

Bella pressed a hand to her mouth, and I heard her inhale sharply. I moved my eyes to her, seeing both worry and anguish in her face.

"Edward," she murmured, "_can_ you?"

Honestly, I did not know the answer to this question. But I knew I had to try. It would be unconscionable to do anything less.

"I'll do whatever I can," I replied. "Let me get my bag."

Bella stood, her expression tight with anxiety. "I'll come with you. I just need a minute to get dressed." She rushed away.

"Stay here for a few moments and warm yourself," I instructed kindly. "We'll leave very soon."

I retrieved my bag from Charlie's room, taking several seconds to check inside. The items most accessible were those I had used on Bella: antiseptic solution, gauze, tweezers. I rummaged beneath these to ensure that I had basic surgical instruments and suture supplies, as well as forceps, syringes, morphine and several other drugs. Would these basic supplies be sufficient in my attempts to save Angela and the baby? More importantly, would my mind remain intact long enough for me to even make the attempt? I prayed that it would, and I pushed the repercussions out of my thoughts. I could not dwell upon those now.

"Edward!" Bella called. Hastily I joined her in the hallway. Ben came from the parlor, shoving his gloves back onto his hands.

"We'll take the buggy," I said.

Bella nodded, pulling on her coat and handing mine to me. I would have neglected to think of it and was grateful that she remembered. She wrapped her cashmere scarf around her neck and slid on her soft leather gloves, then we all stepped outside.

"We'll be there are soon as we can," I told Ben.

He climbed back up onto the horse and rode away. I hated that we were constrained to travel by buggy. I could make the trip in minutes on foot. I debated whether it would be preferable to sacrifice my secret in the interest of time…

Bella, however, did not question our mode of transportation, rushing toward Stanley to lead him from his stall. I hitched him to the carriage quickly, and we climbed up. I urged the horse to a fast trot, mindful of the slick ground until we reached the dirt road about half a mile from the house. There was less ice here, so I spurred Stanley to a run.

Bella had remained quiet since we entered the barn. I could hear her rapid heart beat, though, and knew she was frightened, both for Angela and for me. I took her hand and gave it a light, reassuring squeeze.

"Edward," she began hesitantly, "are you sure you should do this?"

"Yes. I have to try."

"But what if…" She seemed afraid to speak the words.

"If I can save Angela and the baby, the consequences won't matter."

"They'll matter to me," she said softly.

I lifted her hand to my lips then focused on driving the horse forward at the fastest pace he could manage.

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><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	25. Chapter 25

Bella and I did not speak again until we were at the store. I jumped from the buggy and tied the reins to the hitching post. Bella had already climbed down. Together we hurried to the back of the building. The door was unlocked, and we walked inside, pulling off our coats and gloves.

Immediately I smelled perspiration and blood. The latter was not strong, but it was present nonetheless. While only I could hear Angela's rapid breathing and pounding heart, Bella and I could both hear the small, pained noises she made. Two other female voices murmured comforting words.

"Ben," I called, already walking toward the sounds.

He appeared in the hallway, beckoning us toward him. We hurried toward the room.

An older woman, well into her sixties, appeared in the doorway.

"This is Mrs. Withers," he introduced quickly. "This is Edward Cullen, the man I told you about."

She nodded but appeared slightly wary.

"How is she doing?" I asked Mrs. Withers, needing information that Ben most likely could not provide.

"She's been having pains since early yesterday morning," she said, clasping her hands anxiously. "She's been trying so hard, but the baby's not coming."

"Has it entered the birth canal?"

She shook her head. "Not yet."

"Has there been any bleeding?" I knew some had occurred, but I wanted a more precise report.

"Not much… some. No more than usual."

I felt a small flicker of relief to know that Angela was not hemorrhaging… yet. I gave Mrs. Withers a nod of acknowledgement then entered the bedroom.

Angela lay on the bed, a sheet pulled up to her hips. She wore a light cotton chemise which was bunched up over her protruding belly. Her slender hands gripped the sheet as she suffered through a contraction. Her skin was ashen, and her hair was plastered to her forehead. Although her eyes were closed, she remained conscious. Her scent told me that her blood sugar was very low.

She was exhausted, her heart working too hard for her depleted physical resources to manage. The baby's heartbeat was fluttering irregularly, stuttering as its tiny body tried to deal with the distress. Both mother and child were in serious danger.

"Ange," Ben said, bending over her and touching her cheek, "Edward and Bella are here. Edward's going to help you."

Angela's eyes quivered open. "Edward?" she whispered.

"Yes, Angela." I set my bag at the foot of the bed. I tried to keep my voice calm and steady, but I could feel my hands beginning to tremble at the thought of the pain I would soon experience. "I need to examine you. All right?"

The two older women eyed me with vague suspicion. Of course I appeared young, barely old enough to have completed medical school, and there may have been something in my demeanor that betrayed my own nervousness. I opened my bag and removed my stethoscope, hoping the familiar device would offer some reassurance about my professional preparation. I adjusted the instrument in my ears then bent over Angela. She gave a small nod. I spent a few moments listening to her heart, trying to keep my expression relatively placid as the beats thudded in my ears. The strain upon her heart was even more distressing with the additional amplification.

Mrs. Weber and Mrs. Withers had moved back. Bella remained near the doorway. Ben sank down near his wife's shoulder, stroking the hair back from her face. Delaying the inevitable, I folded back the sheet and pressed the stethoscope over Angela's belly to check the baby's heartbeat. I gave a quick nod to the expectant father, then I set the instrument aside. My motions were measured as I removed my watch from my pocket, then took one slow breath to calm my nerves before reaching for Angela's wrist.

Attending women in childbirth had always been an interesting experience for me. Aside from the discomfort, I had found it fascinating to experience their pain. I suppose there were some sensations that eluded me, as I did not possess the anatomical structures to respond to them. But I could feel the pain of contractions in my own abdomen and had to assume this paralleled what the women sensed.

The moment I touched Angela, I was overwhelmed by exhaustion and an extremely uncomfortable tightness and pressure in my pelvis. I tried not to flinch and focused on Angela's thready pulse. Her skin was clammy: I felt the chill of impending shock that crept through her. I set her hand upon the mattress and lowered the sheet to expose her abdomen fully, taking those few precious seconds to relish the relief from discomfort. I devoted perhaps thirty seconds to listening to the baby's heartbeat again then set aside the stethoscope.

Finally I placed my hands upon her belly, pushing the pain out of my mind in an effort to assess the position of the baby within her womb. I could feel the head and feet, and almost immediately I knew what the problem was. This was an abnormal presentation, with the fetus in the transverse position. I pulled my hands away, closing my fingers to prevent them from trembling visibly.

"The baby's not in the correct position," I said, my voice slightly husky. This time the pain seemed to linger in my mind; it was difficult to relinquish it.

"What do you mean?" Ben questioned.

I took a breath then exhaled deliberately. "Usually the baby is positioned so that the head enters the birth canal first. In this case, the baby is essentially lying horizontally. It will be very difficult for it to engage—the shoulder will likely lead."

Mrs. Withers sucked in a breath; she understood what this meant. "It's worse than feet first," she whispered to Mrs. Weber, who gave a tiny whimper in response.

My mind felt clouded, but I knew there was little time to spare. Angela moaned again as Ben kissed her brow. Another contraction was seizing her. I did not need to consult my watch to know that the last one had been fifty-nine seconds ago.

"Oh!" she gasped, her hands moving spasmodically toward her belly.

I smelled fresh blood. I stood quickly and slipped into the washroom I had seen across the hall, rolling up my sleeves above my elbows then scrubbing my hands as thoroughly as possible. Taking a clean towel with me, I reentered the bedroom. Mrs. Withers had pulled aside the sheet. A small, crimson spot stained the white linen.

I sat at Angela's feet. She flinched back, clearly frightened as I began moving her legs apart. "Angela," I said, my voice shaking with the pain coursing through me, "I need to see what's happening." I placed my left palm beneath her navel, pressing gently to assess the slight shift in the baby's position.

Bella had remained silent and motionless, but now she took several quick steps toward her friend. She was very pale, but she seemed determined. "Angela," she said, "it's all right."

Angela blinked up at her, her eyes brimming with tears. In all honesty, I did not believe she was frightened of me or worried about my actions. I think she was terrified for her life and the life of her child. However, Bella interpreted her fear differently.

Bella placed her hand on Angela's wrist. "Edward will help you, just as he helped me," she said earnestly. "He saved my life. I was very ill, and I would have died if he hadn't happened to stop by the farm that day. He took such good care of me…"

Her words were disappearing in the susurration scraping through my mind. Pain… exhaustion… pressure… it was engulfing me, and I did not know if I could complete my task. _Focus, _I told myself sternly, _think of Angela, so caring, so kind, a true friend to Bella… _

And then I could hear Bella's beautiful voice again. "…trust him," she was saying as I felt the warmth of her hand resting over my forearm. The pain was dissipating, fading away from my mind. Yet my palm remained against Angela's abdomen. I glanced at Bella's fingers against my skin to be sure I was not hallucinating, but it appeared my thoughts were relatively lucid.

Angela seemed slightly calmer now. Whatever Bella had said must have assuaged some of her anxiety. Bella stepped back to provide Angela a bit of privacy.

"Take a nice, slow breath in," I advised my patient, "now let it out."

As quickly yet gently as possible, I continued my examination. As I had suspected, Angela's body was ready for the birth; she was fully effaced and dilated. However, the baby's position had prevented it from engaging, and now its shoulder was pushing into the birth canal. This situation was dangerous for both mother and child. Angela was in danger of suffering a ruptured uterus, while the baby could suffocate due to a prolapsed umbilical cord.

By the time I had finished my assessment, my mind was registering pain again. I swallowed, my mouth a tight line. Ben and the women misread my expression.

"Oh God, what is it?" Ben asked, gripping Angela's hand tightly.

"Edward?" Bella questioned softly, obviously concerned about me.

With trembling hands, I pulled the sheet over Angela again then looked up at Ben. Bella moved to my side, placing her hand upon my shoulder. Her fingertips brushed my jaw, and the lingering sensations skittered from my mind. I glanced up at her, curious and confused.

"Edward?" Ben prompted frantically.

I forced my attention back to him. "I need to deliver the baby now. It's in danger due to its position. It mustn't be allowed to engage any further; that would be very harmful to Angela, as well." I gave her an apologetic smile.

"What… what can you do?" Ben asked.

"I can deliver the baby by Caesarian section," I replied. "It is our best option at this point."

"Surgery?" Ben questioned.

The two older women murmured their concerns. Angela's eyes widened slightly.

I nodded. "It needs to be done quickly, before the baby suffers any significant distress."

"Do whatever you can," Ben said.

"Please," whispered Angela, "save my baby."

"I have every intention of saving both of you," I replied before I began unpacking my bag. "I need clean towels," I said, "and a basin of alcohol—any kind will do, the stronger the better."

Ben hurried away to fulfill my request.

"What can I do?" asked Mrs. Withers.

"I'll need someone to help administer the chloroform," I replied.

"Of course," she agreed. "Just tell me what to do."

The next several minutes rushed by as I sterilized the instruments, prepared the suture supplies, and readied the chloroform. Bella hovered nearby, speaking gently to Angela and Ben. I knew she wished to be helpful, too, but there was little she could do.

"Ben," I said as I moved toward Angela's head, holding the chloroform mask and bottle, "it would be best if you and your mother waited outside. I'll call you the moment I'm finished."

He was beside himself with worry and near collapse from exhaustion. He did not argue when his mother led him away. He simply told Angela that he loved her then followed Mrs. Weber slowly from the room.

I placed the mask over Angela's nose and mouth, offering her a smile. "You're going to go to sleep," I told her. "Everything will be fine."

She gave a tiny nod, then I administered the chloroform. I was relieved that I would sense less pain from her while she remained completely unconscious. However, I would still feel whatever the infant experienced once I held it in my hands. My gaze moved to Bella, who stood with Angela's hand in hers. My mind spun with details of the task before me, but a sliver of curiosity flickered with increasing persistence. My eyes fixed on Bella's slender fingers, and I remembered the way the throbbing eased away when she touched me. Was it possible that she had somehow allayed the pain?

"Bella," I said softly as Angela slipped into deep slumber, "can you stay?"

Her gaze shot to the scalpel I'd set upon a clean towel. She understood that there would be blood as I performed the surgery.

"I think I'm going to _need _you," I added significantly.

While she could not possibly comprehend the true meaning of my words, she recognized my need. She took a deep breath then nodded. "Yes. I'll… try."

I explained to Mrs. Withers what I needed her to do, and she took my place holding the mask. I subtly positioned her so that she would have her back to me, telling her that she needed to keep her hand upon Angela's neck to count her pulse beats. She agreed without question, seemingly impressed by the efficiency and knowledge I had demonstrated.

"Open the window a crack," I whispered to Bella.

She complied, and cold air swirled into the room. I hoped it would dilute the scent of blood at least a bit. I inclined my head toward the chair in the corner, and Bella sat down to wait. She still did not understand what I required from her, but my wonderful, generous fiancée was willing to provide whatever it might be.

I worked quickly then, making the initial incision then cutting through the uterine wall. I felt a dull ache low in my abdomen, but I forced myself to attend only to my patients. I listened carefully to Angela's and the infant's heartbeats, aware of Bella's pulse and respiration, too. She was breathing shallowly as the scent of blood filled the room.

As soon as I slid my hand under the baby's head and shoulders, heaviness pressed against my chest. Cold washed over me, too. These were normal sensations for a newborn to experience, but they gnawed at my still-tender mind. My fingers trembled slightly.

"Bella," I said, "I need your help."

She stood and shuffled toward me. "Wh… what can I do?"

"Place your hand upon my neck," I said as softly as I could.

Bella complied, and the moment her warm skin touched me my chest felt lighter and the chill left me. Now I could concentrate fully on the task at hand. I lifted the baby, tapping between her tiny shoulder blades to stimulate her lungs. She let out a small cry, then took a breath. Her heartbeat was slowing, growing steadier as oxygen infused her little body.

Bella wavered, her hand leaving my neck for a moment.

"Mrs. Withers," I said quickly, "take the baby."

She turned, and I placed the infant into her experienced hands. She set the baby upon a towel beside Angela while I busied myself removing the placenta then suturing the wounds as swiftly as possible to stem the flow of blood. Angela was very weak, but there had been no significant hemorrhaging, so I felt hopeful that she would recover successfully.

"Edward," Bella whispered huskily, "do you… still need me?"

"No, love, not right now. Sit down and try to breathe slowly."

She returned to the chair, sinking into it heavily. Mrs. Withers was cleaning the baby, and as soon as I had finished with Angela I severed the umbilical cord then took a few moments to examine the infant. She was small—barely five pounds—but her lungs were well developed, and her tiny heart beat soundly. She was not in pain; I sensed little discomfort from her.

Finally I turned to look at Bella. She remained pallid, a fine sheen of perspiration slicking her porcelain skin. She had lowered her head to her hands and was breathing shallowly.

"Darling," I said, "it's over. Can you tell Ben that Angela and the baby are all right?" I still had some cleaning up to finish.

Bella looked up, a weak but genuine smile spreading over her face. "Thank you, Edward," she murmured, pushing herself to her feet.

I nodded, and she moved past me to slip from the room. I listened as she shared the happy news with Ben and his mother.

"Thank God," Ben said, relief infusing his voice. "When can I see her and the baby?"

"I'm sure Edward will let us know when it's all right," Bella replied kindly.

"Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" Mrs. Weber asked.

"No," Bella responded, "I'm sorry. I couldn't see…"

I realized that I had remained taciturn while I worked over Angela. I regretted that I had not provided more information to Bella and Mrs. Withers. But I would rectify that shortly.

Mrs. Withers had wrapped the infant in a blanket. She commented, "She's little, but she seems like a strong one."

I nodded. "Yes, she fought hard to get here."

"Precious, isn't she?" She lifted the tiny bundle into her arms.

"She's beautiful. I imagine her father and grandmother would like to meet her."

Mrs. Withers nodded and began to walk out of the room. However, she paused for a moment to say, "Thank the Lord you were here to help, Dr. Cullen. I couldn't have saved either of them." Then she took the new baby out into the hall.

_Dr. Cullen…_It seemed years ago since I had been addressed in that manner. I let my gaze rest upon Angela's serene face. Joy and pride burbled inside me, and I remembered the early days of my career, when such feelings were a daily occurrence. Was there a thread of hope that I could do this again?

I shook the thoughts from my head to focus upon more practical matters. Free from human scrutiny, I tidied the room quickly. Soon I had cleaned the instruments and returned most of them to my bag. Then I gathered all of the bloodied towels, linens, and basins and put fresh sheets on the bed, moving Angela very minimally as I worked. I set a blanket over her then called out, "Mrs. Withers, could you come back here, please?"

She returned soon, leaving the baby in Ben's arms, and I asked her if she could put a clean nightgown on Angela and perhaps wipe a warm cloth over her face and limbs. Mrs. Withers readily agreed, beaming at me as I spoke.

I wanted to keep a close watch on my patient, but I slipped out of the room for a minute or so to deposit the soiled linens and refuse in the garbage bin behind the store. Ben, Mrs. Weber, and Bella were in the parlor, cooing over the baby. I darted back to the bedroom to find Angela in fresh nightclothes and Mrs. Withers gently running a brush through her hair.

"When will she wake up?" she asked me.

"The anaesthetic will wear off in an hour or so, but she'll probably sleep for quite a while on her own. She's exhausted."

Mrs. Withers nodded. "Poor dear. She had a rough time of it."

"She's going to need help for the next several weeks," I said. "She'll be quite weak."

"I live just down the street. I'll do whatever I can."

"That's very kind of you. I know she'll appreciate the help. You should go home and get some sleep now. I'll remain here until Angela is stronger."

"And will Miss Bella stay, too?"

"I imagine so."

"I saw her ring…" She smiled knowingly. "When will you be married?"

For an instant I felt inexplicably flustered, and then I felt ridiculously happy. "In April."

"Well, you two seem like a wonderful pair. This time next year you'll probably be holding your own little one." She grinned.

My elation quickly fled as I considered her words. Without responding, I reached for Angela's wrist to check her pulse, commenting, "I'll let Ben know that he can see her now. Thank you for your help."

I walked briskly from the room, my emotions quickly cycling from guilt to regret. The subject of children had never arisen with Bella. I suppose I had pushed it from my mind, knowing the issue was a moot point. But did Bella know? Was she truly aware of my limitations as a husband?

I paused in the parlor doorway. Ben's mother held the baby as he lovingly stroked his daughter's tiny pink cheek. Bella looked up almost immediately and saw me.

"Edward," she said softly, then in a very low whisper, she asked, "how is Angela?"

I gave her a nod to reassure her then stepped into the room. "You have a beautiful daughter," I commented.

Ben lifted his head with a broad grin. "Edward. Thank you."

He extended his hand, and I took it. His exhaustion pulsed through me; he was hungry, too. Still, I managed to keep my expression pleasant, and when he finally dropped my hand the sensations faded.

"Have you chosen a name?" I inquired, trying to focus on more pleasant thoughts.

He nodded. "Rosemary."

"That's lovely," Bella commented.

Ben thanked her then asked me if he could see his wife.

"Of course," I replied. "She won't wake for some time, but you can sit with her as long as you like."

"But she's going to be all right?" he asked, his smile dimming quickly.

"I believe so. She'll be weak, though, and she won't be able to do much for the next few weeks."

Mrs. Weber assured me that she would help with the baby until Angela regained her strength. Then she and Ben left with little Rosemary, who would be placed in her cradle beside her mother's bed.

The moment they stepped from the room, Bella slid her arms around me. "Are you all right?" she asked.

I tucked her head beneath my chin, placing my hand against her cheek. My body felt calm and solid, the traces of pain leaving my mind instantly. "Yes," I replied. "How are you doing?"

"Fine. I just needed some fresh air. I'm sorry I wasn't able to be more help—"

"Oh darling," I interjected, "you gave me more help than you can possibly know."

She looked up at me curiously. "I did?"

I smiled. "When you touched me—when you placed your hand on my neck—I didn't feel any sensation except the warmth of your skin."

"Really?"

I nodded. "I think your touch mitigates the other feelings. I don't really understand it, and I suppose we should test it out a bit more, but—"

"Oh Edward! That's amazing! I was so worried about you, about how much pain you would have to experience to help Angela and the baby. But you're all right."

"Thanks to you."

She was still rather incredulous. "I can't believe it."

I lifted her chin and kissed her lips softly. "I can. You are completely wonderful, Bella."

She blushed prettily. She was going to say something else, but I captured her lips again and stole her words with a kiss.

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><p><em>To be continued... <em>

_I just couldn't leave anyone hanging, so I combined two chapters... I hope no one minded! _


	26. Chapter 26

**Note: **_I am overwhelmed by the response to this story. Thank you so much for all of the support and feedback you all have given me! Now, on with the tale..._

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><p>When Angela began to rouse from the anaesthetic, I took Bella's hand then placed my palm against Angela's cheek. I felt no pain. Gingerly I released Bella's hand, and immediately a deep ache echoed low in my abdomen. I clutched Bella's fingers until the discomfort passed then administered a small dose of morphine to Angela so that she would not be terribly sore when she woke.<p>

I think that Bella was as fascinated and pleased by our new discovery as I was. We would need to discuss how we might employ her talent pragmatically, but just the knowledge that she possessed it left us both excited. We both knew that it was possible that I might be able to practice medicine without feeling pain.

My bliss was tempered, however, by the lingering worry about a less pleasant topic that we needed to discuss. I had planned to wait until we were back at Bella's house to broach the subject, but circumstances seemed to intervene.

We had agreed to remain in town for at least another day so that I could monitor Angela. There was still a chance that she could develop an infection or other complications, and I preferred to err on the side of caution.

Ben had finally succumbed to his exhaustion and was sleeping soundly in the small guest bedroom. His mother had returned to her home to rest, promising to come back first thing in the morning. Mrs. Withers said that she could come over during the night, but I urged her to rest, too; I had heard a slight arrhythmia in her heartbeat and knew that overtaxing the woman was unwise.

Bella insisted that she was not tired. She had slept most of the previous night, so I did not argue with her. She spent the evening cooking, preparing food to last the new parents for several days.

Angela remained weak and fatigued, but she managed to nurse her daughter when the baby cried hungrily. Bella sat with her friend, making sure the pillows supporting Angela's arms were secure and steady. When little Rosemary finished nursing, I took her, holding her to my shoulder and gently patting her tiny back. I laid her in her cradle and tucked the blanket around her small form.

Bella was watching me, smiling softly. Angela had drifted off to sleep again, and Ben was snoring lightly in the next room. A slightly acrid smell prickled in my nose.

"Love, I think your soup might be burning," I said.

Bella stood, her contemplation of the baby forgotten, and hurried toward the kitchen. I made sure that Angela was comfortable, then I told Bella I was going to the livery to check on Stanley. I needed a few minutes to clear my head, and the cool air seemed just the balm to soothe my slightly unsettled thoughts.

When I returned from my short errand, I slipped inside the house quietly, not wishing to disturb the slumbering inhabitants. I found Bella sitting on the settee in the parlor, holding the baby in her arms. She was murmuring softly, her head bent over the infant. She was not aware of my presence in the doorway.

I watched her for a long time. She looked beautiful and serene, and the image of her with an infant cradled to her breast left me overwhelmed with emotion. I found my hand gripping the door frame.

Bella glanced up, smiling. "She needed her diaper changed," she informed me, "but she was still a little fussy. She's quieted down now."

Indeed, the baby was asleep. I moved forward with silent steps, placing one finger against Rosemary's soft cheek. She was not in any physical distress.

"She's fine," I told Bella.

She nodded gratefully. "I'll put her back in her cradle."

I helped her up and watched as she walked carefully down the short hallway. When she returned, she paused in the doorway, running her finger over the wooden frame in the precise spot where I had gripped it a few minutes earlier.

"Edward, I think you cracked it," she said, her brow furrowing in concern.

"I'll fix it," I replied quickly.

She took my hand and led me to the sofa. "Is something the matter?" she asked.

"No..."

She had not released my hand. She stroked my thumb gently. "You looked upset when you returned."

Her tone was so kind, so compassionate, that I could not dissemble with her. I swallowed then said, "It was just seeing you like that… holding the baby, talking to her…"

She did not understand. "Yes?" she asked, seeking clarification. Then her face fell. "Oh, was I doing something wrong?"

"No, love, not at all," I assured her quickly. "You're wonderful with her."

"Thank you. I haven't spent much time around babies before, and she's so tiny and fragile."

"You've nothing to worry about."

"Then what is it, Edward? Why did you look so concerned?"

I exhaled slowly, closing my eyes for a moment before gathering the courage to look at her. "Bella, I want to be sure you know… I mean, you're aware, aren't you, that I can't give you children?"

Her mouth formed into a perfect little 'O.' "I… yes, I suppose I knew that."

"Did you?" I pressed gently. "We've never discussed it before."

"But I know that you don't change, that your body is essentially frozen for your entire existence," she said quietly.

"Yes," I confirmed. "And that means I can't provide the… necessary material to create a child with you. I'm sorry, love, I really am."

She reached up to cup my cheek in her warm hand. "It doesn't matter, Edward."

"But you were so happy holding the baby. And you studied to be a teacher, so I know you like children—"

She pressed her fingers over my lips. "I was happy holding the baby because I know that she almost didn't make it here. And I studied to be a teacher because I wanted to continue my education, and teacher's college was the only option in the Boise area. I don't know if I would have ended up teaching or not, but I think if I did it would be older students, not little ones."

"But you might change your mind," I insisted gently. "You might decide you want children someday."

She shook her head. "Someday soon I hope to be like you."

I blinked in surprise. "What?"

"I hope that one day, before I get much older, you will make me like you."

"Bella, no—"

"I want to be with you forever," she interjected softly. "Always, Edward."

"I could never ask that of you."

"You aren't. It's my request."

"Darling, I could never do that to you, or to anybody."

"Never is a very long time," she said with a slightly teasing smile. "How about if we give it two years?"

"Two years?"

She nodded. "Yes. In two years I'll be twenty-two, the same age as you. And we will have been married long enough to know if we both want it to be _truly_ permanent."

"Bella, I—"

She shook her head. "Please, Edward, just think about it. You don't have to make a decision right now, but I want to know that you'll consider it."

"And if I won't? Is that a condition of our marriage?"

"Absolutely not," she replied. "I want to marry you, and the sooner the better. The only stipulation is that you keep your mind open to my request. That's all I ask of you."

Every fiber of my being resisted, but I nodded my head in reluctant acquiescence. I had two years to change her mind, to convince her to retain her humanity for the remainder of her natural life.

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><p>Bella and I remained in Madras for three days. Well, technically I was not in town the entire time. I dashed back to Bella's homestead to attend to Callie several times, but I returned to the Webers' store in less than an hour, so no one except Bella knew I had been gone.<p>

Angela was recovering well, and Rosemary was a healthy infant. Ben kept the store closed for the first full day after the birth of his daughter, but the townspeople needed various items on a regular basis, so he reopened the mercantile for a few hours each morning and afternoon, cautioning shoppers to be quiet since there was a new baby in the house. Naturally he grinned unabashedly each time he shared this bit of news.

Many congratulations were conveyed, and small gifts ranging from knit booties to cookies to roasts were cheerfully delivered to Angela by her proud husband. Mrs. Weber and Mrs. Withers helped out when they were needed, bathing and changing the baby and attending to Angela's more personal needs.

Bella visited with her friend when she was awake and helped Angela write letters to various relatives to spread the word about Rosemary's arrival. My lovely fiancée also kept the small house immaculate and made sure that all of the humans had plenty of good food to eat.

On the morning of the fourth day, I checked on Angela one final time. Her incision was healing well, and she showed no signs of infection. She was beginning to regain some strength as well.

As I tucked the blanket around her, she smiled up at me.

"Thank you, Edward," she said. Of course it was not the first time these words had passed her lips.

"You're welcome," I replied.

She rested her hand lightly upon my arm. I could feel the warmth of her skin through my sleeve.

"I'm sorry you had to come all the way here," she continued kindly. "I know you've given up medicine, and I would never have asked you to help… but Ben was so frantic with worry, and I was so scared of losing the baby…"

"It's all right," I told her gently. "I suffered a serious illness in St. Paul. I wasn't strong enough to practice on a regular basis. But I'm glad I could help you. Please don't ever hesitate to send for me if you, Ben, or Rosemary need me."

"That's very kind of you, but I wouldn't want to impose further—"

"It's no imposition at all," I assured her. "I'll be back in a couple of days to check on you again."

She nodded gratefully. I was just reaching for my bag when she asked softly, "Edward, will Ben and I…" She paused.

I looked back at her. "Yes, Angela?"

She swallowed nervously. "Will Ben and I be able to have any more children?"

"Probably," I replied honestly. "But you mustn't try until you're completely healed. I would advise waiting at least eight weeks, but the longer the better. If you do conceive, the baby would need to be delivered by Caesarian again."

She nodded shyly. "All right. Thank you."

I risked a brief touch of her forehead. Her abdomen remained sore, particularly the incision site, but aside from this she was not experiencing significant discomfort.

"Rest," I reminded her. "You have lots of people who want to help, so let them."

I gave Rosemary's downy head a small caress then slipped out of the room. Ben was waiting by the door. He'd gone to the livery to fetch the horse and carriage, insisting on paying the stable fees. Bella was just leaving the kitchen; she'd prepared a stew that would serve as both lunch and supper. She smiled the moment she saw me, a gesture that was returned in kind.

"I'm just going to tell Angela good-bye," she said.

She hurried down the hall. Ben extended his hand, and when I lifted my arm rather gingerly he pulled me into an embrace.

"Thank you," he said, emotion heavy in his voice.

"I'm glad I could help," I replied.

He drew back. "Edward, I… I should apologize to you. I hope I haven't put you in an awkward position."

I gave him a quizzical look, prompting him to continue.

"I didn't tell anyone what you did, how you saved Angela and Rosemary… but Mrs. Withers and my mother mentioned it to a few people, and word's getting around."

I arched an eyebrow at him. "Are there other women who are expecting?"

"No, not that I know of. But having a doctor here, half an hour's ride rather than half a day's, has got some folks talking. I'm awfully sorry, but I'm afraid I didn't really make it clear to my mother or Mrs. Withers that you don't practice anymore."

I placed my hand upon his shoulder. "It's all right, Ben. I think I've recovered almost completely. I'm not sure I want to open an office here just yet, but if there's an emergency I don't mind helping out."

He was visibly relieved. "Thanks."

Bella returned and after accepting more words of gratitude from Ben, she and I departed. The skies were cloudy, but the weather was not cold. It was a pleasant day for a ride. Bella snuggled against me.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm fine, love."

"Are you sure?"

I kissed her crown. "Yes. I feel very good. The pain I felt when I first saw Angela isn't bothering me at all. It's completely gone from my mind, thanks to you."

We had tested my theory about Bella's unique ability a number of times as I examined Angela in the hours following Rosemary's birth. We had also experimented a bit with the baby, finding that Bella's touch mitigated hunger pangs and gas pains from the little one. As far as I could tell, I felt no corporeal sensations from others when Bella and I were in direct physical contact, even as minimally as her fingertips against my neck.

"So how can we make this work?" she asked as Stanley trotted along.

"What do you mean?"

"If you still want to practice medicine, I think it's possible if we can figure out a way that I can be with you whenever you need to touch a patient."

"I can't ask you to do that, darling. I know how the scent of blood affects you—"

"I can try to get better with that. Maybe with more exposure it won't be as bad. I didn't faint or throw up with Angela…" She chuckled ruefully.

"You were wonderful," I confirmed. "But I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"You won't. This is my choice. It's the one thing I can do to truly help you."

"Bella, don't you know how much you've already done for me?"

She slid her arm through mine and rested her head upon my shoulder. "Not nearly as much as you've done for me."

"Hmm, I think that is debatable, but perhaps we should save that subject for another time. Let's temporarily shelve the topic of my professional endeavors, too, because there's something much more important I want to discuss with you."

"And what's that?"

"Our wedding."

"I thought we'd agreed on early April… Do you want to change the date?"

"No. Well, that's not entirely true. I'd like to marry you tomorrow," I grinned at her, "but I think we should stick with the original date. What I want to discuss is the wedding itself. I think we should invite Angela and Ben, and your mother and step-father, too."

"I don't need anyone there but you," she replied.

"I know you feel that way now, darling, but I think in retrospect you'll be glad that you had the people you care about present. Carlisle and Esme were married with only me as a witness, and she's told me that it felt very solitary to her, that she's wished it could have been a slightly more festive event. And we can do that. As long as you hold my hand, I'll be fine with whoever is there."

"All right," she agreed. "But really, nothing fancy. We can have the ceremony at the church in town. I know Reverend Joseph; my family used to attend church every Sunday when I was a small child, and he came out to the farm for my father's burial…"

"I think your father would like knowing that you were surrounded by people who love you on your wedding day."

She nodded. "He would."

Feeling truly satisfied, I drove on with my beautiful Bella snuggled at my side.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	27. Chapter 27

I wrote to Carlisle and Esme to share the latest developments in my life. Bella's gift was a revelation, but I was anxious to know Carlisle's opinion about it. To Esme, I addressed a few questions about the wedding and made several requests. There were some important things that I could not easily accomplish from my rural abode, and I needed her assistance.

When Bella and I returned to Madras several days later to check on Angela and the baby, I posted my letter as well as a second one to a medical supply house. There were several basic items that I needed to replace, particularly if I should be called upon to assist any more patients.

Angela continued to progress in her recovery, and Rosemary proved a hearty little thing. As Bella and I strolled along the street back to the livery, her arm through mine so that our hands touched, several people passed us. I heard one woman whisper to another, "I think that's him, the doctor."

Her companion replied, "He looks mighty young… handsome, though."

"Ladies," I greeted amiably, tipping my hat.

This earned surprised grins from them. My spirits were high, too. It was pleasant to be sociable again without fear of discomfort. When we entered the stable, the young attendant went to get our horse and carriage. Stanley gave an abrupt whinny, and I heard a loud thump then an exclamation of pain.

"Son?" I called out. "Are you all right?"

Stanley snorted and shuffled in the stall as I hurried toward the back of the stable, Bella in tow. The stable boy was scrabbling to get up from the floor.

"We got mice," he informed me, "and one of 'em spooked him."

The horse remained slightly agitated but began to calm when he saw Bella. She reached over to pat his flank. I extended my hand to the youth, who grasped it gratefully. Immediately my knee began to throb.

"You're hurt," I said, moving my hand to his sleeve-covered elbow as quickly as possible.

"Just twisted my leg when I fell," he replied. He tried to put some weight on his leg but sucked in a sharp breath in pain.

"Here, come and sit down and let me take a look at it," I urged, keeping my hand on his arm. I led him to a stool, where he sank down. "Bella," I said softly.

She came to stand beside me as I knelt before the boy. I waited until I felt her hand come to rest upon the back of my neck, then I rolled up his trouser leg to reveal the injured knee. It was already beginning to swell.

I placed my hand over the patella somewhat gingerly, waiting a moment to ensure that his pain did not invade my senses. When I was assured that Bella's talent was working, I began examining the knee.

"It's just a sprain," I told the young fellow. "But you'll need to stay off of it for at least a week."

"But I've gotta work," he protested.

I reached into my pocket and withdrew several bills. "From Stanley," I said with a little smile. "It's the least he can do."

The boy's eyes widened as he took the money. "Thanks, sir."

"You're welcome. Now promise me you'll rest that knee."

He nodded. "I will."

"Good lad."

I stood then led Stanley from the stall, quickly hitching him to the buggy. Soon Bella and I were leaving Madras as I assured her that I had felt no pain from the livery boy. She was thrilled to hear this.

About a quarter mile outside of town, we passed an abandoned house. It was on a sizable piece of property with overgrown gardens and a stand of scraggly fruit trees. A carriage house sat about twenty yards from the main structure. The home was two stories and appeared fairly solid, though it was in need of some basic repair and a fresh coat of paint. I liked the style immediately; the dormer windows and clean lines reminded me of the neighborhood where I had grown up.

I tugged the reins gently to stop the horse.

"What's wrong, Edward?" Bella asked with concern.

"Nothing, love. I just want to take a look at this house."

I helped her down, and we walked through the tangled garden up to the porch. We peered into the dusty windows to see the spacious interior. A staircase led up to the second story, and we could glimpse the dining room, too.

"Let's go inside," I said.

"Really?"

I smiled. "Yes."

She was still trying to figure out why I wanted to explore the empty house. But she gamely followed me in when I easily broke the flimsy lock on the front door. A foyer led to a large parlor with an attractive stone fireplace on one side and the dining room on the other. Beyond the dining room were a generous kitchen and pantry. I was delighted to find a small water closet at the back of the house. Indoor plumbing was a wonderful thing for humans.

We climbed the stairs, which were surprising solid. On the top floor we found three bedrooms and a second bathroom, this one with a large tub. The biggest bedroom overlooked the small orchard, and I could make out a few buds on the branches of one of the cherry trees. I imagined how pretty the grove would look when the trees were in full bloom.

Bella stood beside me as I gazed out the window.

"You look happy," she commented. "What are you thinking?"

I reached for her hand. "What would you think of living here after we're married?"

"Here? So close to town?"

"Would you rather stay on the farm?"

She did not answer immediately. Finally, she said, "I'm not sure. My father is there…"

I kissed her forehead. "Then we'll remain there. I don't really care where we live as long as we're together."

"But you like this house, don't you?"

I shrugged, trying not to show my mild disappointment. "It's nice… roomy but not ostentatious, and I think it would be lovely to have fruit trees and a garden so that I could bring you flowers every single day. But I can plant rose bushes on the farm."

"Mmm…" Her gaze moved to the window, and she nodded. "It is awfully pretty. And maybe it would be nice to be close to town. I could help Angela and the baby whenever they needed it."

"Bella, you don't have to say that for me—"

"I'm not. I think maybe we should start fresh after we're married."

"We don't have to decide right away," I replied.

"W should make some inquiries to find out who owns this place and if it's available for purchase," she said.

"All right," I agreed. "But there's no rush…"

Still, as we passed the parlor, I could not help envisioning Bella seated on a finely upholstered sofa reading by the fire…

The property, as it turned out, was owned by the bank in Bend. The more Bella thought about it, the more she liked the idea of living near town. I assured her that we could retain the farm and visit her father's grave as often as she wished.

It was the second week of March when we left early in the morning to travel to Bend. The trip took about three hours, and we stopped at the bank first. I had written to express my interest in purchasing the property outside of Madras, and once I received confirmation of the purchase price I had wired Carlisle to arrange a bank draft from one of my accounts in St. Paul. The amount was twice what the house cost, but I wanted to have access to cash so planned to open an account at the bank in Bend.

The transaction was arranged, and the banker asked me to return later in the afternoon once the papers were in order. I did not hesitate to shake his hand, knowing that Bella's fingers were upon my wrist.

I took her to lunch at a restaurant, where I enjoyed watching her eat roast chicken, potatoes, and carrots. I even convinced her to have a piece of pie for dessert. Then we strolled along the main street, ducking into several stores. Bella permitted me to purchase a new hat for her, and I smiled at the comely vision she presented once she had donned it.

By late afternoon, my business was completed, and we began the trip back toward Madras. It had been a wonderful day. I had bought a house for my bride, and images of her in the new abode continually flickered through my mind: Bella in the kitchen, her cheeks pink from the heat of the stove… Bella in the garden, flowers all around her…. Bella in our bed, hair tousled and skin flushed…

Suddenly I realized that I had reacted physically to the vivid image, and I jerked myself back to reality, glancing at Bella to be sure she did not see the evidence of my traitorous body. Fortunately she was watching a hawk that soared overhead. I breathed slowly to calm myself, trying to think about something other than her soft, creamy skin.

Abruptly a vision of her bare shoulder mottled with red intruded into my thoughts. I was drawn back to the evening when I had been too rough, when I had hurt her. I had been cautious ever since then, keeping our contact to gentle caresses, embraces, and kisses.

While I had anticipated our wedding night and the many subsequent nights of uninhibited closeness after our marriage, I had not consciously considered my actions. Oh, I understood quite well what my body wanted to do, but I had not stopped to think about the fact that one lapse in attentiveness, one instant of impulse, could cause irrevocable harm to my beloved Bella.

I knew what she expected of me. She had murmured soft words about "after we're married" many times as we drew apart after a searing kiss. But could I even attempt such a thing? In this one matter, her gift was my curse; because I could not feel her body's responses, I could not immediately judge if I was causing her pain.

"Edward?" Bella was stroking my arm gently. "Sweetheart, is something wrong?"

I forced myself to return to the present. "Hmm? Oh no, I was just… daydreaming."

"About the house?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Thank you," she said, moving closer to me so that her leg pressed against mine. "I can't wait to be your wife. I know we're going to be very happy there." Her smile was the widest I'd ever seen in.

I forced my lips to turn upward. "Yes…" _Your wife… _The words echoed through my head. But my fears lingered. Could I really be a husband to her?


	28. Chapter 28

Carlisle, Esme, and I had established a very regular correspondence, exchanging letters every week. He had been astonished yet thrilled to hear about Bella's special gift. Still, he advised me to remain cautious, noting that I had not tested the effects thoroughly and comprehensively. While it was true that Bella had shielded me from Angela's, Rosemary's, and the stable boy's discomfort, I did not know absolutely that I would not feel any other human's pain. More experimentation would be required.

Esme was extremely pleased to assist with my purchases and kept me updated on her progress. As soon as she heard about the new house, she offered to help with furnishings, then she wrote to say that she and Carlisle could come to Oregon a week before the wedding to work on the house and ensure its perfection when Bella and I returned from our honeymoon. I decided to accept this generous offer.

Bella and I spent many enjoyable hours at the house, too. I moved all of my meager furniture and belongings there so that we would have a comfortable place to sit after clearing the weeds from the garden, washing the layers of dust and grime from the windows, and repairing the rotted wood in the carriage house. Much of the work I could have accomplished in a fraction of the time on my own, but Bella derived true pleasure from the tasks and the gradual improvements they brought, so we toiled side-by-side, talking and laughing and exchanging little kisses and caresses at every opportunity.

However, I kept my actions restrained, never permitting myself to touch Bella with more than a light, tender caress. As soon as a kiss became heated, I would ease back, moving my lips to her cheeks or brow. Sometimes she gave me a slightly quizzical, mildly disappointed look, but she did not press the issue. After a few minutes the flush would fade from her skin and her scent would soften, leaving me calmer yet unable to shake my lingering anxieties about our wedding night.

Aside from this one worry, the other facets of my life were coalescing in a positive way. I was becoming a relatively sociable creature as Bella and I often visited the Webers after a day spent working on the house. Ben and I chatted amiably about politics and economics while Bella and Angela discussed the wedding and cooed over little Rosemary.

Gradually we became acquainted with several other townsfolk, too. Mrs. Withers stopped in at the store frequently to see Angela and the baby, and the woman's innate kindness and motherly ways endeared her to me quickly. As I became better acquainted with her, however, I grew increasingly concerned for her health. She was an inherently active individual, but her heart was beginning to falter. I had heard the evidence of this shortly after Rosemary's birth, and within the next several weeks I noticed some edema in Mrs. Withers' hands. I suspected congestive heart failure.

I had the utmost respect for patients' privacy, so I waited until she was alone in her home one afternoon to call upon her. I had my bag in hand, stocked with the some of the new supplies I had ordered. I knocked, listening to her footsteps and heartbeat as she approached the door. She opened it and smiled at me.

"Dr. Cullen!" she greeted warmly, "what a nice surprise. Does Angela need me?"

Ben's mother lived about a mile outside of town, so Mrs. Withers was always happy to step in for a short while to watch the baby if the store became particularly busy.

I bowed my head briefly and removed my hat. "Actually, I've come to speak with you," I replied. "May I come in?"

"Of course." She showed me inside, her expression one of bemusement.

I gestured toward the settee in her small parlor. She sank down rather heavily, and I pulled up a chair to sit before her. I resisted the urge to take her hand, instead touching her wrist lightly just above her cuff.

"Mrs. Withers," I began, "I hope you will forgive me if I appear at all intrusive… but I've come to see you because I'm concerned about you."

Her cheeks flushed, and she lifted her hand to rest it above her bosom. "You are?"

I nodded. "I can't help but notice that your hands are swollen. I imagine your ankles are, too."

She did not deny this; she merely glanced down as the color drained from her face.

"Please, don't be upset," I said kindly. "I can help you. You've felt tired lately and are often out of breath, I think."

She looked up and gave me a small nod.

"I believe you may have a slight heart irregularity…" I had set my bag upon the floor. I reached into it to retrieve my stethoscope. "May I listen?"

She exhaled slowly, lowering her hand to her lap. "I suppose so," she replied. But I knew she trusted me, and I sensed a hint of relief in her features. She had suspected that something was wrong but had been afraid to admit it.

Smiling reassuringly, I leaned forward to press the instrument over her heart. Of course I could hear it perfectly without the device, but the pretense was necessary. I spent several long moments listening then sat back.

"There is a minor weakness in the heart muscle," I reported as gently as I could. "But I'm going to give you some medicine that will help. You will need to try not to overexert yourself. Get plenty of rest, and when you feel tired sit down and put your feet up."

I reached into my bag again and removed a bottle of digitalis. I held it up and explained the dosing instructions to her. She listened and nodded in acknowledgement.

"It's a good thing you're here to help with deliveries now," she commented with a wry smile. "Don't know how much longer this old heart can manage them."

"Mrs. Withers, you have one of the best hearts I've ever known. I think it will continue to serve you well if you just take a bit of care."

"I will. Thank you, Dr. Cullen."

"You are very welcome." I assured her that she could send for me any time if she felt ill and reminded her not to push herself too hard. She agreed and expressed her gratitude again.

I made a mental note to add her to the wedding guest list, certain Bella would welcome the inclusion of the sweet woman.

* * *

><p>Mrs. Withers was not my only new patient. More than once I heard people whispering about me, aware that I was the doctor who had saved Angela and the baby but, oddly, did not plan to practice in earnest. Word about my mysterious illness spread through the small town grapevine, but this did not stop frantic, sometimes desperate residents from seeking my assistance.<p>

During the second week of March, Mrs. Withers sent her son for me. Her young grandson had fractured his arm. I alleviated his pain and set the bone so that it would heal properly. The following week I treated the mill owner, who had suffered a severe laceration just below his knee when a saw blade came loose. His wife, a good friend of Mrs. Withers, had feared that the leg would need to be amputated, but I was able to repair the damage and save the limb.

Bella accompanied me on these visits, keeping her hand upon my neck as I worked on my patients. I asked the family members to leave the room so that they would not question her proximity to me, explaining that Bella was there to assist. No one questioned this, and to her credit my wonderful fiancée managed to remain at my side even when there was blood involved.

While I was suturing the miller's leg, however, I had felt her slump against my back. While she remained conscious and kept her hand inside my collar, she was quite ill. The moment I finished my task—completed at superhuman speed once I realized the effect it was having upon Bella—I took her outside, where she vomited.

I apologized profusely, but she insisted that it was worth it to help the injured man. Her natural inclination was to express regret for what she perceived as her own weakness, but I would hear none of that. I pampered her shamelessly the moment we returned to her house and made sure she was comfortable for the rest of the day and evening.

I felt I had solid evidence that I could safely resume practicing medicine. The only question was whether I should continue on an informal basis as I had recently begun to do, or whether I should delve into the pursuit in earnest and open an office in town. The latter option would inevitably lead to more work as people began to realize that I was available and receptive to their needs. This would allow me to help more of the townsfolk and farmers, a thought which appealed considerably to me. However, Bella's assistance would be necessary; she would have to remain within reach at all times.

She and I discussed this at length. Her compassion spurred a desire to help as many people as possible, so she favored my returning to medicine in earnest. However, she did not push me, still fearing that I might not be ready to resume the lifestyle that had led to my infirmity.

Finally we decided that I would rent the building near the old deputy's office and open a practice shortly after we returned from our honeymoon. I wrote Carlisle with the happy news, and he agreed—somewhat reluctantly due to his lingering concerns—to help me set up my new practice.

* * *

><p>During the third week of March, a small parcel arrived from Esme. I was expecting it, but I still felt a thrill of anticipation when I placed it in Bella's hands.<p>

"What is it?" she asked, her excitement equal to her curiosity.

"Open it and see," I replied with an inscrutable grin.

We sat in the parlor of the new house. We had spent much of the afternoon putting up wallpaper in the dining room, a task that required patience and did not lend itself to my particular skills. Fortunately my fiancée dealt with the glue and strips of uncooperative paper with a calm determination and aplomb. As she tidied the papering supplies, I had run into town to check the mail and pick up a few items for the kitchen. Bella often ate lunch or had coffee or tea at the new house when I insisted that she take a break from whatever task we were doing.

Daylight was fading now, and the evening promised to be chilly. I lit a fire as Bella removed the paper from the flat box then lifted the lid.

I held out my hand to her. "Come sit here so you can see," I offered.

She took my hand and knelt by the hearth. Inside the box she found the beautifully engraved wedding invitations I had asked Esme to order.

"Oh!" Bella gasped in delight, running her fingertip over the delicately raised lettering. "Edward, they're… they're gorgeous… so elegant and fine. They must have cost a small fortune—"

"It's of no consequence," I assured her. "Esme was so pleased to do it. Do you really like them?"

She nodded. "I do, very much." She took one of the thick, ivory cards from the box and held it up. "Really, they're lovely. I don't think I've ever seen such a beautiful invitation."

"I wanted them to be special. I want everything about wedding to be special and memorable so that you will hold the day in your heart forever."

She rested her hand against my cheek. "I will, Edward, always. But it won't be the invitations or the ceremony or even the guests who make it special. It will be you, darling, because you will be my husband."

There was such pure, deep love in her eyes that I had to lean in and kiss her. Our lips brushed lightly for an instant, then Bella slid closer, wrapping her arms around my neck as her body pressed against mine. I could feel her warmth, the softness of her breasts and rhythm of her heartbeat, and for a few moments she utterly enveloped me.

I found the kiss deepening as her hot little tongue darted inside my mouth, questing further, her hand tangling in my hair. Her scent was intoxicating, and my body began to respond. She wriggled against me, and suddenly I was aware that my masculine hardness was nudging at her belly. With a gasp, I drew back.

Bella was flushed and panting. Without my body to support her, she fell forward onto her hands. She lifted her head to look at me. I had anticipated that her expression would reflect shock or disappointment in my crass response, but all I saw was amusement and affection.

She smiled a bit shyly as she sat back on her heels, holding out her hands to me. I was powerless to resist her and took her small hands in mine.

"I'm sorry," I stammered.

"It's all right," she said softly, her cheeks still very pink. Her smile had not faded. Indeed, her eyes were bright with excitement. She scooted closer, and I wrapped my arms around her. "I love you so much, Edward," she sighed as she rested her cheek against my chest.

"No more than I love you," I replied.

"In less than a month, we'll be married," she said softly, her breath tickling my sensitive skin even through the fabric of my shirt.

Trying valiantly to calm my body, I took several slow breaths. "Yes."

"We'll be husband and wife…" Her fingers traced my clavicle then moved up my neck to my ear. "Mmm. We will become one."

The huskiness of her voice and pace of her heart told that she was speaking literally, not metaphorically. I had not found the courage to voice about my concerns to her openly, pretending to myself that the opportune moment had never arisen. But it was here now, and I knew I needed to speak.

"Bella," I said, stroking her hair softly to help soothe my nerves, "there is something I need to tell you… something you should know."

"I'm already aware of your secrets," she said, her tone playful. "And I love knowing that I have the most gifted, unique fiancé any girl could have."

"Please, love, this is serious."

She exhaled a little sigh and began to lift her chin to look up at me, but I did not wish to see her eyes when I told her the terrible truth. I kept my hand upon her head, urging her to rest it against my chest again. She did not resist, and before I continued I kissed her temple softly.

"I love you so much," I began. "And I want to show you in every way possible."

"Yes," she murmured, "I feel the same about you." Her fingers roved over my pectoral muscles.

"But sweetheart, there are some ways of expressing love physically… some things, actions… that could be dangerous for you."

"Edward, what are you saying?" Now she did move her head to gaze into my eyes.

I swallowed anxiously. "You know that I am very strong and very fast."

She nodded.

"The way I touch you, or any human for that matter…" I felt quite inarticulate. I paused to plan out my words more carefully. "The amount of pressure I apply, for example, has to be controlled. If I were to shake Ben's hand the way I would Carlisle's, I would literally pulverize it."

"You're always very gentle," she said as if confirming the thought.

"I am, but it requires a conscious effort. When I worked at the hospital, I always knew exactly what each person felt when I touched him or her, so it was easy to be gentle and not hurt them. But with you, Bella, I can't feel if my touch is too heavy or too harsh."

"It's not, Edward."

"But it could be. Do you remember the night I left marks on you?" I placed my fingers lightly against her shoulder.

"It was nothing. You didn't hurt me—"

"No, but I could have. My control began to slip for a moment, and it could have left you severely injured."

"But it didn't," she insisted. "I trust you—"

"I know," I interjected. "But I don't trust myself. When I'm with you, touching you, kissing you, breathing in your amazing scent and feeling your warm skin and pulsing blood, my rationality dissipates. You truly intoxicate me."

She smiled at this, thinking it was a compliment. But it was not; it was a warning.

"Bella," I said a bit more firmly, taking her chin gently, "please listen to what I'm trying to say. We will have to be very careful after we're married. I don't know if I can do more than kiss you and caress you."

Now her expression changed to a frown. "What do you mean?"

She was very bright young woman. I knew she apprehended my meaning thoroughly, but she needed to hear me say it.

"Darling, I don't think I can love you as a husband should—physically. And I want to, I want to so much. But it's not safe for you. I can't risk harming you, injuring you or worse."

"You won't."

"I might. In all likelihood, I would."

She began to shake her head, but I moved my hand to her cheek.

"Bella, at the very least you have to consider the physiological differences between us. You are soft, delicate, and fragile. I am hard, durable, and unbreakable. And even if I could control my hands completely, the rest of my body is not accustomed to such things. The newness, the overwhelming sensation, will most likely eradicate whatever small measure of control I might attempt." Feeling stricken, I spoke my final thought. "The type of injuries I could inflict upon you are horrendous and unimaginable. I have seen the effects of a man's brutality upon a woman, yet that is nothing compared with what I could do if my control slips for even a few seconds."

"Edward, please," she began. I knew she was going to insist that I would not harm her, but she was letting her longing overshadow her rationality.

"No, Bella, don't say it. Just think about what I've told you. It's a very serious matter and something I should have brought up months ago. I apologize that I waited so long. I should have given you more time to consider it, to change your mind if you feel that I cannot be the husband you desire and deserve."

Her brows drew together, and her lips pursed. A whiff of salt tingled in my nose as tears began to fill her eyes. I could not face her, knowing that my words had hurt her. Yet it was better that I assault her in this way, in a manner that would leave nothing more than a tiny emotional scar at worst, than that I harm her body irrevocably.

I stood and bowed my head. "I'll hitch up Stanley for you so that you can return home whenever you like. I'll leave you to your thoughts, love. If you wish to speak to me, I will come to the grove in the morning."

I turned and hurried out of the house. My entire world was crumbling, and I felt the weight of it trying to crush my mind. If ever I had needed Bella's soothing touch, it was now. But I could not seek it. I could not be a selfish brute any longer. I had given her the truth, and she would make of it what she would.

Dejected and dismayed, I returned to my home, my steps as heavy as my heart.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	29. Chapter 29

The night was one of the longest of my life. I was restless but had no desire to hunt. Instead I paced before my hearth for hours, wearing down the floorboards with my incessant tread.

What would I do if Bella decided she could not marry me? I could not remain here amid the memories and with the knowledge that I might see her beautiful face and slender figure walking in the woods or passing through town. I could not practice medicine without her help, either, so I would have no reason to stay in Oregon. I would have no other recourse but to return to Carlisle and Esme. Their love for me was sincere, but it was not the same as Bella's. It might not be enough to sustain me.

Was she the thread that wove the fabric of my being together? I had felt months ago that she had healed me, and now I recognized the danger in this. Without her, would I begin to unravel again?

A pallid sun rose in the morning, the skies gray with rain clouds. I waited until 8:00 to leave and dash to the grove. I did not wish to press Bella if she were not ready to speak with me. Perhaps she needed more time to make a decision. I knew she loved me; that was not at issue. But could she bear to have a life with me knowing it would be incomplete? The ties of marriage were both emotional and physical, and I was certain she wanted both.

My steps slowed as I approached the grove. My head hung and my shoulders slumped as my feet shuffled over the ground. Birds twittered, animals stirred, and the leaves rustled in the breeze, but to me it was just a bland susurration. I paid little attention to the sounds around me until I detected one I recognized. The gentle thumping of a human heart was nearby. I knew the unique rhythm immediately.

I lifted my head to see Bella sitting at the edge of the copse, her back against a tree. She had a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, clasped tightly in her hands. Her skin was very pale, and her lips were only the faintest shade of pink.

"Edward," she whispered. "You came."

"Of course I did," I replied, hurrying forward. I knelt before her. I could see the gooseflesh raised upon her fair skin. "Darling, you're cold. What are you doing out here in the chilly weather?"

"I was waiting for you."

"For how long?"

"Since sun-up."

"Oh sweetheart," I said regretfully, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for you to wait for me…"

"I didn't want to miss you. I was afraid if I wasn't here you'd think I didn't want to see you, and you'd go away." Her eyes were large and dark against her wan complexion. "Edward, please don't leave me."

Surrounded by trees, hair mussed by the breeze, she looked so small, so frail, and so hurt.

A little shudder ran through her, and in an instant I had scooped her into my arms and begun running toward the house. I took her inside and placed her on her bed, wrapping the quilt around her. I had moved so quickly that she had barely had time to take a breath before she found herself cocooned in blankets.

"I'm going to make some tea for you," I began, turning away.

But her small hand clutched at my wrist, stopping me. "Edward," she said, "wait."

I did, and when she whispered "sit" I obeyed. Without thinking, I slid my arm around her, pulling her to me. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she tried to suppress a sob.

"Sshh, love, please don't cry," I murmured, kissing her brow. "I'm sorry… Of course I won't leave you. I will remain with you as long as you want me to."

"Forever," she whispered, nuzzling against my chest.

I held her more tightly, rubbing her back softly as another sob escaped her. She sniffled and swiped at her eyes then looked up at me. Her expression held love, devotion, and relief.

"Forever," I repeated, delivering a tender kiss to her lips. Then I kissed her damp cheeks and eyelids, her jaw, and the soft spot beneath her left ear. My mouth moved with feather lightness over her neck, my lips brushing against the artery that pulsed with life.

"I love you," I said.

"I love you, too," she replied huskily. "And I want to marry you, absolutely and unconditionally. If I know that you will lie beside me and hold me in your arms every night while I fall asleep, that will be more than enough."

"Oh my darling, I can do that."

I kissed her neck again, then her chin, and finally her mouth. When I looked at her face again, I noticed that her eyes remained swollen and dark; she had slept poorly—if at all—last night.

"Let's start right now," I said, easing her down to rest her head against the pillow. I kept my arms around her.

To my surprise, she wriggled and shifted until I had turned onto my back, then she moved to lay her head upon my chest. She gave a little sigh and closed her eyes.

"Mmm," she murmured sleepily, "perfect, Dr. Cullen."

"For me too, Mrs. Cullen."

I loved the sound of her new name and decided that I would use it as often as possible the moment we were wed. Rain began to patter on the rooftop, and the skies had grown even darker than before. But I was utterly content as the woman I loved beyond all else slept quietly in my arms.

* * *

><p>I suppose I had reached a tenuous peace with myself. While I still worried that Bella would eventually desire more than I could give her, I knew that being apart was absolutely not the solution. The memory of her pale, distraught face as she sat shivering in the grove still haunted me. I could not subject her to such distress again. Perhaps our marriage would not be the same as other couples', but in a sense that was fitting. We were probably the most unique couple in the world.<p>

Still, my desire to please my wife completely remained. She deserved all the joy I could offer her. I determined to speak with Carlisle at the earliest opportunity to seek his counsel. His rationality and wisdom might allow him to view the situation in a different manner than I could.

The wedding was set for April 22, a Saturday that I hoped would bring pleasant weather. We would exchange our vows in the small church in town at sunset, amid the gentle glow of candlelight. There would be no risk of an errant ray of sunshine glittering upon my face… and Bella would look particularly lovely in the soft light.

Carlisle and Esme were scheduled to arrive on April 14. They would stay at the new house, where Esme would put the finishing touches on the décor and furnishings. Bella's mother and new husband would arrive on April 21 and board at the small rooming house in Madras. Bella did not feel entirely comfortable in the couple's presence, so it was best that they not sleep at her house.

Early in the morning on April 14, I heard a peculiar noise as I finished brushing Stanley in Bella's barn. I had not heard such a thing in some time, and it took me a moment to identify the sound. It was an engine, a motorcar engine more precisely. An automobile was rumbling toward the house.

I stepped out of the barn to see the vehicle making its way over the rough ground. The motorcar had a soft top that was folded back, revealing the passengers clearly to me. Inside sat Carlisle and Esme, smiling and waving.

I sprinted out to intercept them as Carlisle slowed the automobile. He was still grinning. Esme was in my arms in an instant, embracing me warmly.

"Edward, how I've missed you!" she cried, kissing my cheek then standing back to run a critical eye over me. "You look wonderful, dear—so happy."

"I am," I replied. "Happier than I've ever been."

Carlisle had left the car running but hopped out to envelop me in his arms. "It's good to see you, son," he said.

"You, too." I arched an eyebrow at the automobile. "This is new."

He laughed. "Yes. I thought it would be enjoyable to travel by motor car."

I eyed the boxes and trunks nearly overflowing from the rear seat. "And it gave you more room for luggage, too," I commented with a chuckle.

Esme clapped her hands. "I got everything you asked for," she informed me gleefully.

"And then some," I added.

"Well, it's not every day that my son gets married. I've just brought a few things for you. And Bella is such a lovely girl… I couldn't resist purchasing an item or two for her, as well."

"Esme, she doesn't like extravagance," I began.

"Nonsense! Every girl likes a little luxury, even if she doesn't know it."

Carlisle gestured toward the automobile again. "Get in, Edward, and let's go see your bride."

We all piled into the front seat, and Carlisle drove the rest of the way to the house. Bella was inside doing her washing, but she heard the commotion and came out to great us. Her expression showed her surprise at the conveyance.

"Oh my!" she exclaimed. "Hello!" She began waving and hurried across the porch.

I was just climbing out of the car when I heard her little cry. My gaze shot to her. She was sprawled on the ground, hands before her. Her heart was racing, and her breaths came heavily.

"Bella!" I cried, rushing to her. Carlisle and Esme were right upon my heels.

She had tripped on the porch steps, of course, and I had been too preoccupied to see her stumble and had failed to catch her before she fell.

"Oh, sorry," she murmured, her cheeks flushing as she began to push herself up on her hands.

"Are you all right?" I asked, inhaling carefully to detect any traces of blood. I glanced at Esme. Carlisle had already looped his arm around her waist. He was breathing in slowly, too.

Bella nodded. "I think so."

I smelled no blood, but still I moved my gaze over her assiduously as I took her hands in mine. My fingers probed quickly yet gently over her hands and wrists. When I was satisfied that she had not sustained any injuries, I helped her to stand.

Carlisle released Esme, who moved with slight hesitation to embrace her future daughter-in-law. Bella immediately enfolded her in her arms, likely unaware of the potential danger she had just eluded.

Carlisle stepped over to hug Bella, as well, then my fiancée walked with my assistance to the vehicle to admire it.

"Do you like it?" Esme asked, calmer now, her spirits buoyed by Bella's enthusiasm.

"Oh, it's wonderful," she replied.

Esme and Carlisle exchanged enigmatic grins, then my father clapped a hand over my shoulder.

Eyes moving from Bella to me, he said, "The car is for the two of you—a wedding gift from us."

Bella gasped and pressed a hand over her mouth. I slid my arm around her shoulders. "It's too much," she said incredulously.

"Nonsense," Esme replied. "This is a very special event, and this is the least we can do. Besides, you'll need a way to reach your honeymoon destination."

"But we have Stanley," Bella protested mildly.

"I think he will appreciate a little vacation," Carlisle said. "From what Edward has written, the poor fellow has been working awfully hard lately with trips back and forth to town."

"I…" Bella's eyes moved from Carlisle to Esme, "I don't know what to say, except for thank you."

"That's more than enough," Esme replied with a warm smile. "Now, you boys unload the packages. Bella and I have some wedding details to discuss." She slid her arm through Bella's and led her inside.

"Thank you," I said, giving Carlisle's hand a hearty shake.

"I think you'll enjoy it," he responded. "It's great fun to drive, and you can put the top up if the weather requires it. I'll show you how everything works after we take these things inside."

We had the trunks and boxes in the house within a few minutes, then Esme shooed us outside and told us to take a drive for at least an hour. Bella appeared slightly anxious, but I knew what this was about, at least in part.

"Don't worry, love," I told her, "she'll be gentle with you." I kissed her cheek then submitted to Esme's waving motions and left with Carlisle.

He gave me some instruction about how to operate the motor car, then I climbed into the driver's seat and we set off along the path toward town. We chatted amiably for a short while, but soon the conversation turned more serious.

"How is Esme doing?" I asked, recalling the slight rigidity I'd seen in her body when Bella fell.

"Well, I believe. She's been able to do quite a bit of shopping in the last month or so. I accompanied her, of course, just in case, but her control is quite strong. She's such a loving creature; I think that helps her to suppress her urges."

I nodded, understanding this. Even without being able to feel Bella's physical sensations, I had never been tempted by her blood, even when it was fresh. My affection for her overrode my more primal impulses.

"Bella looks well," Carlisle said, his innate perceptiveness likely attuning him to my thoughts.

"She is."

"I'd like to hear more about her effect on you. You wrote that you've tested it in several situations and with several humans…"

"Yes. It seems to apply regardless of the individual or his affliction. I performed a Cesaerian section, set a compound fracture to the radius, sutured a severe leg laceration, treated a sprained knee… and I felt no pain, no discomfort whatsoever."

"Fascinating. But she has to be in actual physical contact with you."

I gave a nod of acknowledgment. "Even just a light touch of her fingers is sufficient to block the sensation."

"Perhaps it is some sort of enhanced nerve conduction," he mused. "If the electrical impulses were stronger than normal, I wonder if they could affect your own neural activity?"

"Honestly, Carlisle, I don't know. I can find nothing atypical about Bella, other than this one talent. The irony of it is that she becomes ill when she smells blood—"

"When she _smells _blood?" he repeated.

"Yes."

"Hmm. Humans usually can't smell blood. Most who become ill from it are affected by the sight."

"I know… oh, do you think that could have something to do with her other ability?"

"I really don't know, but it's an intriguing theory. Hyperosmia could indicate some anomaly in the olfactory nerve or other neurological issue."

"Yes…But I performed a cranial nerve exam a few months ago and found nothing out of the ordinary."

"Still, this is a major difference between her and other humans, and it's the one that has allowed you to consider returning to medicine. I think it's quite important that you attempt to understand it fully. What if it is something temporary? If it should cease functioning at some point, the results could be disastrous."

I had never considered this, but I suppose I should have. I stopped the car and slumped forward, my hands gripping the steering wheel. "I didn't think of that," I admitted.

I felt his hand come to rest against the back of my neck. "I have been a physician for a great many years, Edward," he said gently. "I cannot help but seek explanations for humans' physical atypicalities. And I have found, invariably, that there is always an explanation of one sort or another."

"So what are you thinking? Do you have any theories? Because I can tell you that I have spent a great deal of time with Bella and have been very close to her physically, and I have never sensed anything out of the ordinary."

He arched an eyebrow. "Edward? Have you and Bella… consummated your relationship?"

I would most certainly have blushed if I were able. Instead I groaned. "No, Carlisle, of course not!" My voice was heavy as I added ruefully, "As if that were even possible."

"Son?" he pressed, both curious and concerned now. "What do you mean?"

Suddenly I felt confined even in the open vehicle. I jumped out and darted over the low hill beside the trail. Carlisle followed closely.

"Edward, something's the matter," he said, coming to stand before me. He placed his hands upon my shoulders. "Tell me what's wrong."

I closed my eyes, my body rigid now. "I can't be a proper husband to her," I said miserably.

"Are you worried about your wedding night?" I did not open my eyes, but I heard the smile in Carlisle's voice. "I am quite sure that you understand the mechanics, and you comprehend the physiology perfectly. I don't think you've anything to fret about, son."

How his brilliant mind had not grasped the problem remained a mystery to me. I opened my eyes to glare at him. "That's not the issue! My God, Carlisle, can't you see? I'm afraid I'll injure her, or even kill her."

I had rarely seen him look so astonished. He blinked at me. "Edward, no…"

I nodded fiercely. "Yes. I can't feel her body's responses, so I wouldn't know if I was causing her pain. And if I lost control for even a few seconds, the results would be disastrous."

His brow furrowed. "You have kissed Bella deeply, yes?"

I nodded. "Of course. She's my fiancée…"

"And you have held her in your arms, and I imagine you have caressed her face, her hands…"

"Yes. I adore her. I love to touch her."

"Have you ever kissed her neck, just here?" He touched the skin beneath my left ear.

I nodded. "She seems to enjoy that."

A flicker of a smile crossed his lips. "You have had your mouth over her neck, against her carotid artery where the blood flows strongly and fragrantly, yet you have never bitten her or even bruised her, have you?"

"No, of course not. I'm always very gentle with her."

"Yes," he nodded, "of course you are. So what makes you think you will not be equally gentle, equally in control of your urges, when you touch her more intimately on your wedding night?"

Shame washed over me as I admitted, "I did hurt her once. I left a mark on her shoulder."

"When was that?"

"In January."

"What happened?"

My flawless memory permitted me to recall the incident with perfect clarity. "I was kissing her and touching her… caressing her cheek, then her jaw, her neck and then her shoulder. Her blouse slipped aside a bit, exposing the skin above her clavicle. I ran my fingers over it, then I kissed it, and I was too rough. She cried out in pain."

He waited for me to continue, his gaze intent.

"I feared I had hurt her, broken her clavicle."

"But you didn't."

"No. But there was a mark. I had been too rough."

"Did it leave a bruise?"

I shook my head. "The mark faded in a few minutes."

"So you didn't really harm her at all."

"It depends upon how you define harm."

"Was Bella upset by it?"

"No. She insisted she was fine… _but I left a mark on her_." I emphasized the last phrase, feeling he did not understand the importance of it.

"And have you injured her in any way since then?"

"No, but—"

He held up his hand. "Edward, you are a rational, highly intelligent individual. Have you been listening to yourself? Think about everything you've told me, everything we've just discussed."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he shook his head.

"Just think for a few moments."

I exhaled a small snort of exasperation but forced myself to replay his words and mine: _You have had your mouth over her neck, against her carotid artery where the blood flows strongly and fragrantly, yet you have never bitten her or even bruised her, have you … I'm always very gentle with her… _

I understood his point, but I felt he still did not fully grasp mine. "Perhaps I haven't really hurt her yet," I said, "but I've nearly lost control. When I'm close to her, touching her and breathing in her scent, I feel things, strong urges, desires that push me to be even closer."

"And that is precisely how a husband should feel with his wife," he said kindly. "You want to be as close to her as possible, physically connected. It is truly the joining of both body and soul."

"You're speaking of your experience with Esme," I said with minor indignation. "Of course you can be as close to her as you wish. You can do whatever you like with her because she's not breakable. But Bella is human, Carlisle! My God, don't you see the danger in that? I could fracture her pelvis, crush her hand or arm or shoulder, dislocate her hips, or worse. Think about it." My tone was growing desperate. "Think about the internal damage I could inflict!"

I stepped back and spun away, hands clenched into fists. I was breathing heavily, the breath unnecessary but spurred on by my emotional state.

"Edward." Carlisle's voice was calm, soft, unperturbed. "I am not a fool. I understand what you are worried about, and I think your concerns are very reasonable, very realistic. But I want you to consider how close you and Bella have grown. Your physical closeness has come in small steps, hasn't it? And with each new step, you were able to adjust, to maintain your control. This final step is admittedly a very large one, but you needn't take it as a singlestride. You can work your way up to it gradually, acclimating yourself slowly until you feel ready to complete it. I'm sure Bella will understand—"

A short, mirthless laugh rumbled from my chest. "She already does. I've told her that we can't have… marital relations, that it's too dangerous."

"You have?" He sounded surprised. "Well, I suppose it's good that you discussed it with her. And how does she feel about this?"

"She's acquiesced to my wishes. She told me that she's content to have me hold her as she sleeps."

Carlisle's hand wrapped gently around my wrist. "Son, I would never urge you to do something that makes you feel uncomfortable or that causes you anxiety. If that is the agreement you and Bella have reached, that is your decision and it is not for me to judge you. But please know that I trust you. And that is not an empty platitude. I've seen the way you interact with her. Even if you are not aware of it consciously, your body reveres her. Your touch is light and loving, always respectful of her relative fragility. I've seen nothing that would make me worry about your harming her in any context."

"This from the man who didn't want me to marry her?" I asked with mild disdain.

"That was months ago, and my concerns stemmed from an entirely different source. I trust you have spoken with Bella about the issues I broached?"

I could not remain agitated in the face of his unruffled demeanor. My voice calmer now, I replied, "I did. She told me she wants me to change her eventually."

"Really?"

"She wants to be with me forever."

He stepped around so that he faced me again. "How did you respond to that?"

"I refused her initially, of course, but she asked me to think about it—not to rule it out entirely—and she's promised me at least two years."

"Well, you've some time then."

"Carlisle, I would never consider doing that to her."

He nodded. "That is between you and Bella. I think that focusing on the present is the best course of action now. You have a wedding to prepare for, son." A grin spread over his face.

"In more ways than one," I murmured.

He chuckled sympathetically, and we walked back to the automobile, my heart a bit lighter but my concerns not entirely alleviated.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

_Ah Carlisle, always the voice of reason! Is anyone else excited that he and Esme have returned? I was so happy to bring them back!_


	30. Chapter 30

Carlisle and I found Bella and Esme in the parlor when we returned to the house. Esme had a pile of pale fabric in her lap and was sewing, the needle moving quickly through the material.

"Don't come in here!" Esme warned cheerfully.

Carlisle shook his head in fond exasperation, while I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Bella excused herself and came out to greet us. She appeared happy, though her hair was slightly mussed.

"How was the drive?" she asked.

"Very nice," Carlisle replied.

"I think you're going to enjoy the motorcar," I added.

Her pretty brow furrowed a bit; I knew she still felt uncomfortable with the extravagance. "Yes…" Her gaze wandered back toward the parlor.

I pulled her into my arms and said softly, "Esme wanted to do this for you. It's made her very happy."

"You know?" Bella asked.

I nodded. "She told me she wanted to bring a dress for you. I hope you don't mind, darling. She was so excited by the idea."

Carlisle smiled in confirmation.

"It's so generous of her," Bella said softly. "It's very beautiful."

"For a very beautiful bride," Carlisle said.

Bella blushed. Carlisle lifted her hand to kiss it tenderly, but I could see from his expression that the gesture was more than a simple act of affection. He inhaled slowly, trying to analyze her scent more thoroughly, and the back of his ring finger pressed over the pulse point in her wrist.

I shook my head minutely and said too rapidly for her to hear, "Not now." His scientific curiosity was admirable, but I felt I should speak with Bella first about the possibility of his evaluating her.

Carlisle lowered her hand with a small grin. "So, when do I get to see this new house I've heard so much about?"

"Whenever you like," Bella replied. "We can go this afternoon if you want… or would you like to rest first?" Then she blushed again, realizing the folly of her suggestion. "I mean, you might want to freshen up or change or something."

"That's very considerate of you," Carlisle said. "Perhaps we can go after lunch."

The rest of the morning passed pleasantly with Bella and Esme cloistered in the parlor while Carlisle and I tinkered with the automobile and talked about the newest medical research and advances described in the journals we both read.

We all drove to the new house together. Esme loved the building and grounds, complimenting Bella on the wallpaper and paint she had chosen. Carlisle found the place very satisfactory, telling me that he thought Bella and I would be quite happy here.

My fiancée and I left my parents at the house and returned to her home shortly after dark. She prepared a simple supper for herself, then we retired to the parlor to sit before the hearth. She cuddled against me comfortably.

"I feel like it's all becoming real now that Carlisle and Esme are here. I love you so much," she said. "I can't wait to be married."

"I feel the same, sweetheart." I kissed her gently. "To be with you every day and every night will be wonderful."

"It will." She sighed.

"Bella," I began hesitantly, wishing to be honest but not wanting to give her false hopes, "I think… maybe there is a chance… that we can try to become more intimate."

She looked up at me, her eyes shining with delight. "Really? But I thought you were worried—"

"I still am. But I spoke with Carlisle, and he helped me to see things a bit differently."

"He did?" A blush spread over her cheeks.

I nodded. "If we take things slowly, perhaps I will be able to remain in control, just as I have in the past."

"I think that's reasonable," she replied. "Carlisle is a very wise man."

"He is," I agreed. I waited a few moments then shared with her, "He's also quite intrigued by your special ability."

"Oh. Does he think me terribly odd?"

"Not at all, love. Like me, he just wonders how it works. He has an interesting theory that it could somehow be related to your enhanced sense of smell."

"There's only one thing I can smell that others can't. You know that."

"Yes. Still, it's unique." I rested my hand over hers. "I wish it didn't affect you so strongly, though."

"I think I'm getting a little better," she responded quietly.

"Perhaps. But I hate to see you become nauseated and faint."

"I imagine I'll get used to it the more time I spend around it."

"I hope so, but if you can't, if it ever becomes too much, you must let me know immediately."

She looked up at me, suddenly understanding my concern. She could become overwhelmed by her reaction to blood just as I had suffered from my reaction to pain.

"Yes, Edward," she agreed softly, "I will."

She wanted so desperately to help me pursue my vocation. I suspected that her innate compassion helped her to find the strength to tolerate the smell of blood when we were with patients. But surely she had limits. I would need to ensure that I did not push her beyond them. I would not risk my fragile darling in any way.

* * *

><p>When Carlisle and Esme returned in the morning, she presented me with a new suit that she had purchased in St. Paul. It was made of elegant dove gray fabric and was quite handsome. I had not worn such a formal outfit in a long time, but I felt the occasion of my marriage warranted fine attire.<p>

Bella loved the cut and the material. "Try it on," she urged.

I ducked into her father's old room and changed into the jacket and trousers. The jacket fit well; a vampire's perfect eye was a tailor's friend. The trousers, however, were just a bit too short. When I walked back out into the kitchen, Esme fussed the over the extra half inch and apologized that she had gotten the length wrong. I explained that it was due to my shoes. She had been thinking of my height when I was barefoot, as I had been most of my final months in St. Paul.

"I can fix them easily," Bella said. "It won't take long."

She brought her sewing box and knelt to remove the stitches then insert a few pins in each hem. When she had finished, I removed the trousers and returned them to her. She and Esme went back into the parlor to work on the small project.

They were talking quietly yet affably while Carlisle and I sat at the kitchen table discussing a plumbing issue he had noted at the new house. Suddenly Esme flashed past us, dashing to the front door.

"Esme?" I questioned.

Carlisle was on his feet instantly, darting after her. A faint aroma of blood perfumed the air. I sprinted to the parlor.

Bella sat in her chair, her left hand wrapped around her right thumb. She appeared rather pale, and her heart was beating quickly. The trousers lay across her lap.

"Are you all right?" I asked, dropping to my knees before her.

She nodded. "I just nicked my thumb with the scissors. Esme brought a brand new pair, and they're much sharper than my old ones." She gave a small shake of her head, and I sensed that she was feeling dizzy. "Edward, she just leaped up and disappeared. Is she all right?"

"I think so. She's just being cautious…" I took her right hand and gently pried away the fingers of her left. A trail of blood trickled down the wounded digit and across her palm.

Bella took a slow, shallow breath and swallowed.

"Let me open the window," I said, quickly moving to accomplish this small task. Fresh, cool air filled the room.

"Thank you," she murmured.

I was just about to run to the kitchen for a towel when Carlisle appeared in the doorway. He held a clean handkerchief in his hand. He moved smoothly but rapidly to stand before Bella.

"Are you all right, dear?" he asked.

She nodded. "It's just a little nick."

He wrapped the cloth around her thumb, his eyes studying her carefully. I knew he was fascinated to see her reaction to blood firsthand.

"How is Esme?" I asked.

"She's embarrassed," he replied, "and she asked me to apologize."

"It's not her fault," Bella said. "I'm the clumsy one."

"Where is she?" I inquired.

"Out near the barn," Carlisle told me. He peeled back the handkerchief to look at the wound. "I think this could use a stitch or two."

I took her hand gently and examined the injury. The cut was deep, and the edges were gaping. "Yes," I agreed. "I'll get my bag."

Bella appeared slightly dazed. Carlisle helped her move to the sofa, where he settled her against the cushions. I hastened to fetch my bag. When I returned, Bella was trying to stand as Carlisle gently restrained her. I could see that her legs remained wobbly, and her color had not improved.

"Darling, just stay still for a few minutes," I said.

"No," she protested weakly, "I need to find Esme… I don't want her to be upset."

"Edward," Carlisle said very quickly, "why don't you go and speak to her. I can take care of this." His expression conveyed sincere affection, and I realized that it meant a great deal to him to help the young woman he had come to adore.

"All right," I agreed. Lifting Bella's chin lightly with my finger, I said, "Darling, I'll find Esme and let her know that you're fine and that you aren't upset with her. I think it will mean more coming from me than it would from Carlisle. He'll tend to your thumb."

She nodded, and I hurried away. While I trusted Carlisle completely, I did not wish to be gone any longer than necessary. I found Esme behind the barn, arms wrapped around her slender waist and head bent.

"Esme," I said, sliding my arm around her shoulder, "Bella's fine. She wants you to come back as soon as you're able."

"I'm sorry, Edward. I didn't intend to be rude, but the moment I smelled the blood I knew it would be best for me to get away. Is she very upset with me?"

"Not at all."

"She's such a dear girl. Did she cut herself badly?"

"It's a small laceration, but it's fairly deep. Carlisle is going to put in a couple of sutures."

"Oh my. You should be with her. I'm sure she'll feel better if you're at her side."

"Thank you." I kissed her cheek then ran back to the house. I entered, my steps quick yet silent as I walked down the hall.

I paused in the parlor doorway, watching as Carlisle finished cleaning the wound. He sat beside Bella, speaking gently to her, telling her about the time he had spent in Rome in the mid-eighteenth century. Her gaze was fixed upon him, and she appeared almost mesmerized. He often had that effect upon his patients. His motions were smooth and quick as he picked up the suture needle he had prepared.

He paused in his narrative to say, "Take a deep breath, sweetheart, then exhale slowly."

She obeyed, and his eyes flicked down as he deftly inserted the needle. His movements were rapid, faster than a human eye could see, but I watched in admiration as he closed the wound with two perfect sutures. By the time Bella had fully registered the pain, he was finished.

I slipped into the room and took her other hand. She looked up at me.

"All right?" I asked her.

She nodded. Carlisle snipped the thread then wrapped a bandage around her thumb. "Try to keep it dry," he advised. "It should heal quickly, and the stitches can be removed before the wedding."

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome, dear. Are you feeling better now?" He rested his fingers over her wrist.

"Yes. Once the blood is gone, I'm fine."

He smiled sympathetically. "It's an unusual reaction. The human olfactory system is not typically sensitive enough to detect that particular smell." He touched her nose lightly, almost playfully. "I wonder if there is something unique about _your_ sense of smell?"

She shrugged. "I don't know…"

"Would you like to find out?" He caught her gaze, his golden eyes captivating her.

"Mmm, all right…"

He smiled, and I realized that my very clever, charismatic father planned to examine her. I knew he had great faith in my professional skills, but he had over a century of experience. His abilities and knowledge were unparalleled. If there were anything atypical about Bella's nervous system, he would find it.

Suddenly I began to feel both anxious and guilty as diagnostic possibilities swirled through my mind. The most dire was a glioblastoma, and I regretted that this had not occurred to me before. Why had I simply accepted Bella's differences rather than attempting to understand them more thoroughly?

Carlisle's calm was in direct contrast to my growing distress. He studied Bella for a few long moments. When he inhaled slowly, I knew he was using his own enhanced senses to analyze her scent. His keen ears listened to her heart and lungs, and his sharp eyes moved over her face and hands, searching for any subtle abnormalities in her skin.

I attempted to parallel his actions and analyses, focusing on each of my senses as objectively as possible. I realized that, since her recovery, I had rarely used my diagnostic senses, instead indulging myself blindly in her innate beauty. Yet even now I found it difficult to step outside of my role as fiancé and into a more professional mode. Bella was just too enticing.

Carlisle, however, did not appear affected by her delectableness. He remained professional yet warm as he asked her if she ever experienced headaches. She replied that she rarely did, and he found no indications that she suffered from migraines. He questioned her about her childhood, asking if she had suffered any major illnesses or had ever injured her head. She blushed at the latter and confessed that she was "not very graceful" and had bumped her head several times over the years.

She had a good memory and was able to show him where the blows had occurred. He nodded patiently, but we were both thinking that the locations of the injuries were not near the olfactory or limbic regions. Even so, he moved his sensitive fingers purposefully over her entire skull, feeling for any indicators of past damage.

He examined her nose carefully, peering inside then testing her sense of smell with several items. Her hyperosmia appeared limited to blood alone.

He performed a careful neurological examination, attempting to determine whether there was some atypicality in Bella's nerve function. I had found nothing extraordinary when I had examined her similarly, but I deferred to his vast experience and expertise, waiting anxiously to see if he would detect something I had not been able to.

Bella was becoming slightly apprehensive. I knew she disliked the attention Carlisle's evaluation required. She was too polite to show any overt resistance, but her heart was thumping quickly, and her respiration rate had increased. Her eyes searched Carlisle's face for any hints about what he had found.

Finally he finished, offering her a nod of acknowledgement. I slid my arm around her shoulders, knowing she would find comfort in my touch. She sat rigidly, another sign that she was nervous. I looked pointedly at my father, silently urging him to share his results as quickly as possible.

He glanced at me then fixed his gaze on Bella. "I cannot find any physical cause for your heightened sense of smell or for your special ability with Edward."

"So there's… nothing wrong with me?" she asked a bit tremulously.

"Not in the least," he replied, his sincere, pleased smile telling me that he was being entirely truthful. He took her hands gently. "I think you will have a long, healthy, happy life."

Bella was beaming, her relief evident as she looked up at me then back at Carlisle. "Thank you," she said.

He lifted her uninjured hand to kiss it lightly. "You're welcome, dear. And thank you for indulging me. I'm afraid that my scientific curiosity got the best of me…"

"I didn't mind," she replied a bit shyly. "At least now we all know that I'm all right."

I realized that, like me, she must have wondered if her curious abilities indicated a curse rather than a gift.

I kissed her temple, and she melted into my embrace. Carlisle stood, saying he wanted to find Esme and let her know that she could return whenever she wished. He tossed the blood-stained gauze into the fireplace as he left.

Bella and I sat quietly until they returned. Esme's apologies were effusive, but Bella insisted that she was not upset and asked Esme if she could help her with the hemming. This calmed my adoptive mother, and soon the two women were chatting amiably as Esme sewed with Bella beside her.

Carlisle and I stepped outside. While I knew he had been honest with Bella, I still wished to speak with him candidly. We walked briskly toward the copse, and when we had reached the shadow of the trees, I asked without preamble, "Was there anything at all unusual?"

"No, Edward. Bella is a very healthy young woman. I can find no physical abnormalities."

"Physical…" I repeated.

He smiled. "I think perhaps she is a bit more perceptive than most humans. I feel that she sees inside our hearts."

I could not disagree with this. "She does, Carlisle. She saw that I was different, and I think that for a very brief time it frightened her. But then she focused on what she found inside of me, and she accepted me as I am."

"She is an extraordinary woman indeed."

His joy was nearly as great as mine.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	31. Chapter 31

The week passed quickly. There was much to be done as Bella prepared to move all of her things to the new home. I helped her to pack, then Carlisle and I took all non-essential items to the house outside Madras. Bella and Esme also had several clandestine projects to attend to. I knew that these related specifically to the wedding. More than once I was shooed out of the house or asked to stay away for a specific length of time. I tried to obey with good humor and grace, but I hated to be separated from Bella for more than a few hours.

In addition to the moving tasks, Carlisle and I spent some time in my new office. I had leased the building and begun planning how to use the space, but I was eager for his input. He had worked in hospitals for the past three decades, but prior to that he had practiced in several small towns, as well as working on the battlefields during the Civil War. His expertise as a most unique physician was invaluable as we discussed how I would deal with my patients should I be required to make house calls on sunny days.

He smiled with pride as I gave Ben a large envelope to post. It contained a list of items and a bank draft. By the time Bella and I returned from our honeymoon, the first shipment would be waiting for me, and I would be able to begin furnishing the office.

Ben was pleased to meet Carlisle and told him several times how grateful he was to me for saving Angela and the baby. Soon Angela came into the store, expressing similar sentiments but in a quieter manner. Carlisle inquired about little Rosemary; he had a special fondness for infants and a gentle paternal side that made him particularly tender around babies and young children. Angela took us into the house and lifted the sleeping infant from her cradle, placing her in Carlisle's arms.

"She is lovely," he said softly, his thumb brushing her silky brown curls lightly. His expression showed reverence and affection for the tiny human being.

"Thank you," Angela replied, obviously touched by his sincerity. "I don't think she'd be here if it weren't for Edward. Ben and I can never fully express our gratitude." She blinked back tears.

Carlisle kissed Rosemary's curls then placed her in the cradle again. "An angel," he sighed, smiling up at Angela.

"I can see where Edward gets his kindness," Angela said.

Carlisle chuckled. "And I can see why you and Bella are such wonderful friends," he complimented.

We returned to the store to bid farewell to Ben and to tell him that we looked forward to seeing him at the wedding. Our next task was to pick up Bella and wait for her mother and stepfather to arrive on the 3:15 coach.

* * *

><p>Bella was anxious about the visit. She had not seen her mother in months, and their correspondence had been relatively brief and sporadic. Still, I was curious to meet the woman, and I felt it important that she attend the wedding even if she and Bella were not close.<p>

We left Esme and Carlisle at the new house then took the motorcar back to town to await the coach's arrival. Fortunately clouds hung low in the sky, so I did not need to remain in the shadows. I took Bella's hand as the wheels clattered up the road. Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer were the only passengers, and as they climbed down I studied Bella's mother.

She had Bella's hair and general facial shape, but her eyes did not contain the sharp intelligence of her daughter's. She was somewhat shorter and slightly more solid, too.

"Bella!" she cried as soon as her feet touched the ground.

She embraced Bella immediately. I gave a nod of greeting to Mr. Dwyer, who extended his hand to me.

"Mr. Cullen," he said, his expression open and friendly.

I hesitated momentarily before taking his hand, glancing at Bella first. But she was still in her mother's arms, so I grasped the man's hand quickly. Fortunately he was relatively comfortable, although he would need to empty his bladder soon, and he would appreciate a good meal within the hour.

"And this is Edward," Mrs. Dwyer said, stepping forward and reaching for my hands. She wore gloves, so I clasped her hands immediately.

"Mrs. Dwyer," I said, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you," she replied. A few drops of rain began to fall, and she squealed lightly. "Ooh! Let's get out of this weather!"

"The rooming house is this way," I gestured, reaching for one of the valises. Mr. Dwyer took the other, while Mrs. Dwyer slipped her arm through Bella's and leaned in to whisper in her ear. Of course I heard every word.

"You didn't tell me how handsome he is!" she said.

"Mother," Bella murmured, "please. He'll hear you, and you'll embarrass him."

"Nonsense! He can't hear me, and even if he could, it's a compliment, so why should it embarrass him?"

She chattered on as we walked, and soon we reached the boarding house. Bella had arranged the largest room in the establishment for the couple, and within a few minutes we had their luggage put away.

Bella told her mother that we would like them to join us for supper. She mentioned that my parents were staying at our new house. Mrs. Dwyer arched an eyebrow at this, appearing slightly affronted.

Bella suppressed a sigh and said, "Esme and Carlisle have been working on the renovations and helping to get the house ready for us. But it's not quite finished yet. I thought you'd be more comfortable here. The church is right down the street, and there's the Webers' store if you need anything…"

"I'm familiar with Madras, honey," Mrs. Dwyer reminded her daughter.

"Well, I'm not," Mr. Dwyer said genially. "It looks like a nice place."

"So, um," Bella appeared hesitant and remained somewhat anxious. "We'll leave you to rest for a little while, and we'll come back in an hour or so to pick you up for supper… unless you want to do something else before that?"

Mrs. Dwyer had opened the closet to look inside. "No, I think we'll just freshen up then see you later." Her voice was a little too crisp.

I bid them good-bye then slid my arm through Bella's as we walked down the stairs. She was quiet, and I could see her lower lip quivering slightly. Something had upset her.

"What is it, love?" I asked gently as we stepped outside. Light rain fell, and the air was cool.

"I thought she might want to go out to the farm… to see my father's grave," she replied, swallowing hard. "I mentioned doing that in the last letter I sent."

"Oh darling," I said, pulling her to me as closely as I dared in public. "I'm sorry. Perhaps she's just not ready—"

She shook her head. "No. She just doesn't care. I know they grew apart; I understand that. But they loved each other once, enough to have me. Shouldn't that still mean something to her?"

"Yes," I replied softly, "it should."

She looked up at me, her eyes bright with tears. "I can't imagine ever feeling any differently about you, unless it's growing to love you even more."

"I feel the same," I said. "I will truly love you forever."

She sniffled, and I reached into my pocket for my handkerchief. We walked to the motorcar, and I helped her in then started the engine. I had put the top up, but the dampness of the air still pervaded the atmosphere. As soon as we were out of town, Bella moved to press herself against my side. I wrapped my arm around her, mindful of the chill that my body was imparting yet understanding that she needed to feel a physical connection to me.

I kissed her hair several times as we drove. We reached the house in a few minutes; she had begun shivering though. Quickly I pulled her from the automobile and carried her inside.

Esme opened the door. "Oh dear! What's happened?" she asked with deep concern.

Carlisle darted up behind her. "Bella?" He reached out to touch her cool cheek.

"I'm… all right," she stammered. "Just chilly."

I took her to the parlor. Fortunately a fire was burning steadily in the hearth, warming the room pleasantly. I set Bella on her feet and removed her damp coat. Esme brought a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, then I eased Bella down before the fire.

"She's been crying," Esme said, too softly and quickly for Bella to hear.

I nodded and replied with equal speed and lowness, "Yes. Her mother upset her; Mrs. Dwyer didn't want to visit Mr. Swan's grave."

"Oh my." Esme rubbed her hand gently over Bella's back, and my fiancée glanced up at her with grateful eyes.

Esme knelt to smooth her hand over Bella's hair. "Would you like some tea, dear?" she asked kindly.

"Yes, please," Bella replied. "Thank you."

Esme and Carlisle left us, but their presence had cheered Bella somewhat, and she was calmer now.

"I can return to town and cancel supper," I offered.

She shook her head. "No, it's all right. That's just the way my mother is. I suppose I should expect it by now. She moves on and leaves the past behind." She gave a little shrug.

I kissed her tenderly. "You're very understanding."

She placed her hand upon my cheek, studying my eyes for a few moments. "So are you."

I smiled warmly. "It seems we were truly made for each other."

This elicited a delighted little laugh from her, the most beautiful sound in the world for me.

* * *

><p>The meal with Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer went relatively well. Mrs. Dwyer loved the house and seemed impressed by the décor and design. She chatted amiably with Esme, taking her aside several times for "private" questions and comments about the wedding. She was pleasant with Bella, too, but never maternal. It seemed this trait was not in her nature, while it imbued Esme's character. The differences between the two women were striking, and they went well beyond the corporeal.<p>

Esme's manner was always gentle, her voice soft and her eyes showing true interest in others' thoughts and feelings. Mrs. Dwyer was friendly and talkative, but her gaze often flitted to her husband, her attention flickering like a flame. I decided quickly that Bella had inherited her father's personality and sensibilities. I wished I had met him; I felt certain that I would have liked the man.

Bella had roasted a chicken with potatoes and carrots. Mr. Dwyer proclaimed the dish delicious, and Mrs. Dwyer complimented Bella on her cooking, commenting that she was "a disaster in the kitchen" herself. Sadly, my parents and I did not share the others' enthusiasm. Carlisle, Esme, and I had to feign eating the unpleasant smelling food, but we managed adequately.

We all visited for a while after dinner, then Bella, her mother, step-father, and I got into the motorcar so that I could return them to the boarding house. Bella and I continued on to the farm, where I accompanied her inside.

I told her that I would light the fire, but she took my hands and said, "I think I'd like to be alone tonight, if you wouldn't mind terribly?"

"No, darling, not at all," I lied. But I felt confused. Had she changed her mind about marrying me tomorrow? Panic began to sweep through me.

"It's all right, Edward," she said, clearly sensing my burgeoning distress. "I am absolutely thrilled to know that by this time tomorrow I will be your wife and you will be my husband. I can't wait." She pushed up onto her toes to kiss me. "But I feel that I should spend one night by myself, remembering my father, my childhood… because after tomorrow everything will change. Do you understand?"

I smiled. "I do, my love. I'll miss you, but to know that after tomorrow we will spend every single night together makes it bearable."

With one final, lingering kiss to her beautiful lips, I bid her farewell and left her, knowing the next time I saw Bella it would be our wedding day.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued... The wedding is nearly here!<br>_


	32. Chapter 32

I spent the night at the home I would soon share with my beloved Bella. Esme fluttered about inside and out, touching up paint, rearranging furniture, and trimming bushes and trees. Carlisle smiled fondly at her activities each time he saw her, but he remained near me, his expression placid and open.

I had packed and re-packed my valise, trying to decide exactly which items I would need during the week Bella and I would be away. Several changes of clothing and a few toiletries were necessary, but aside from these there was little I required.

Would Bella have everything essential to her, though? I began to worry that I had neglected some critical item when I sent the list to the caretaker. There would be food, but would there be soap and towels? I decided to pack a second bag with bathing items, just in case. I went to the hall closet to retrieve another satchel.

On the floor sat my medical bag. I bent to reach for it automatically then froze. Would I require the items inside it? Abruptly images of terrible injuries invaded my mind. Some I had seen during my year of practice, but others—even more dreadful, more mutilating—materialized in my thoughts, too. I closed my eyes, my body stiffening as I remained crouched upon the floor.

"Edward?" Carlisle's kind, soft voice broke through the mental turmoil, and I felt his hand upon my shoulder. "Are you all right, son?"

I took a breath and opened my eyes. His expression showed his concern.

"I'm not sure," I admitted.

"Tell me what's wrong," he urged gently. His eyes flicked to the bag grasped tightly in my hand.

Trying to calm myself, I set the bag on the floor again then stood slowly. Carlisle took my arm as if to steady me, guiding me toward the parlor. I sank down on the sofa, and he sat beside me. I lowered my head to my hands. He waited patiently for me to speak.

Finally, I said, "I'm still afraid that I'll hurt her."

He nodded. "I understand. But you know that you must be careful, and that it is important to proceed slowly."

"Understanding and acting are not always the same thing," I replied.

"Edward, your control has always been exceptional."

He had such faith in me. Still, I reminded him, "It's never been tested in such a situation before."

"Perhaps not entirely, but you must trust yourself. Trust your love for Bella, and let that guide you."

"And if that's not enough?" I asked.

He smiled. "It will be."

We sat before the crackling fire until dawn's rosy fingers caressed the sky, heralding the arrival of the day Bella would become my wife.

* * *

><p>The morning and afternoon passed surprisingly quickly. Esme left shortly before noon to go to Bella's house and help her prepare for the wedding, carrying several boxes in her arms. While I knew that my fiancée would not need hours to dress, I understood that she would appreciate the company. Bella had not asked her mother to assist in the preparations, knowing that Mrs. Dwyer's lack of interest in visiting her former husband's grave would prove upsetting. Bella and I both agreed that this day should be one devoted to joy.<p>

Carlisle's presence was subtle throughout the day. He and I hunted together first thing in the morning, before it was fully light, then we spent several hours in quiet conversation. He left for a while during the afternoon but would not tell me where he was going. I decided it was best not to ask. The grin he was suppressing told me his errand was something that pleased him, and that dissipated any anxiety I might have had.

Shortly after five o'clock I took a bath, lingering in the water for some time. I had never been particularly vain or even interested in my appearance, aside from wishing to appear neat and well-groomed as any gentleman should. However, as the water cooled and grew clearer, I looked down to study my naked form.

What would Bella think of me if we were able to reach the point at which I would disrobe before her? Would my stony sinews frighten her or repulse her? She had touched my bare neck, my hands, my forearms and face, but the rest of me had always been covered. Would she recoil at the firmness of my flesh?

Her skin was so soft, so warm and yielding… Images of her slender arms and legs, creamy and smooth and supple, formed in my mind. My body began to respond, and I drew up my legs, unwilling to see the evidence of my arousal. Good lord, what would Bella think of _that_?

A light tapping at the door ended my musings abruptly. "Edward?" Carlisle asked. "Did you realize that it's after six thirty? We should leave in fifteen minutes."

"Yes, thank you," I replied crisply, hoping that he could not hear my embarrassment in my voice.

I stood and reached for a towel, drying my body and hair. I put on undergarments, my socks, trousers, and shirt then stepped out into the hallway, where Carlisle waited. He smiled at me. While I was perfectly capable of finishing dressing myself, I sought his companionship as I donned my vest and slid the tie around my neck.

Carlisle's nimble fingers fastened the small buttons upon the snugly-fitting vest, then he knotted the necktie perfectly, adjusting it between the stays of my collar. I lifted my arm to attend to the button at my cuff, but he stopped me.

"These are for you, son," he said, depositing two beautiful gold cufflinks in my hand. Each had a delicately scrolled C upon it surrounded by small diamonds.

I took a breath then embraced him. "Thank you."

"Let me fix them for you," he replied as he drew back.

Soon I was completely dressed, jacket in place and new cufflinks peeking out beneath the sleeves. I glanced at my pocket watch; it was 6:55. The wedding would begin in thirty-five minutes.

"It's time," Carlisle said with a grin. "Are you ready?"

I nodded and replied, "I am."

Esme had walked—or more likely sprinted—to Bella's house, leaving the motorcar for Carlisle and me. He got behind the wheel and drove toward Madras. The sun was setting, and dusk was settling over the town. The church, however, was aglow.

As we approached, I saw that small paper lanterns hung from the branches of the large oak that arched over the chapel. Two long garlands of white and yellow flowers were strung from the doorway to narrow posts set into the ground about ten feet away, creating a delicate, fragrant walkway. Another garland draped over the door. The entire effect was softly beautiful, just like my Bella.

Inside the church, I could see candlelight, and I heard numerous voices murmuring cheerily. As I took in the sight before me, a smile crept over my face.

"Esme?" I asked, believing I knew now why she had departed so early in the day, using time with Bella as a ruse.

Carlisle shook his head. "No. She planned to spend the entire afternoon with Bella. Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer, Angela, and Ben did this. Oh, and a Mrs. Withers helped, too."

I frowned a bit at this. "She shouldn't have… she mustn't over-exert herself—"

He chuckled. "That's exactly what she thought you'd say. She was fine, Edward. She's quite fond of you. I think she considers you a sort of grandson."

He parked the car, and we got out. Suddenly my legs froze. The moment was finally here. In a handful of minutes, Bella would be my wife.

"My God," I breathed, "it really is going to happen. Bella is going to marry me."

He nodded. "She is. And I know she couldn't be happier. Are you ready, son?"

With as much honesty as I had ever expressed, I replied, "I am."

We walked to the church and entered through the front door, the floral perfume surrounding us. I paused to study the scene before me. Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer sat in the front pew, and the minister, Reverend Joseph, stood at the pulpit. Two tall candelabra glowed on either side of the small dais, and additional candles lined the windowsills. More garlands, using the same flowers, hung along the pews and between the windows. Angela, Ben, Mrs. Withers, and Mrs. Weber sat behind the Dwyers. The next pew held Mrs. Withers' son, his wife, and their three children; one was the boy whose arm I had set.

The church was beautiful but not opulent—precisely what Bella and I both desired. Reverend Joseph glanced up from his Bible with a grin of greeting. This alerted the other guests to my presence, and everyone turned to look at me. The young Withers boy waved, and everyone else offered me a smile. Mrs. Dwyer gave a little "ooh" and sighed happily.

After the reverend nodded, Carlisle left my side, whispering, "Go up to the alter."

I did, my legs moving mechanically. I passed the guests, their faces merely surreal images in the dream-like milieu. Soon I was standing before the minister, my hands clasped before me. Esme's distinctive scent wafted over me, and I turned my head to see her slip into the pew beside Bella's mother. Both women were smiling joyfully.

And then Bella's unique fragrance caressed my senses, and I realized that a door at the back of the church had been opened. Bella stood in the doorway of a small vestibule. She held a bouquet in her hands, and I vaguely noted that it was comprised of the same pretty yellow and white flowers as the garlands. My gaze moved over her, but the vision was too much to take in all at once. I knew that she wore an ecru dress adorned with lace, and her hair was arranged atop her head with flowers tucked amid the glossy, sable strands. Pearls hung from her ears and throat. But the details eluded me.

Suddenly I saw Carlisle at her side, taking her hand and slipping it through his arm. They began to walk, slowly moving toward me. Bella's shining eyes were locked on mine, and a rosy blush spread over her cheeks. She had never looked more glorious.

I felt it would be an eternity before she stood at my side, but finally she reached me. Carlisle kissed her cheek then moved to sit beside Esme. I heard Mrs. Dwyer sniffling and smelled the salt of tears. I reached for Bella's hand.

Her warm fingers curled around mine, and then the minister began to speak. He uttered words about marriage, about love, but none could adequately describe my feelings for Bella. The phrases flowed, and I waited excitedly for the most important ones.

"Do you, Edward, take Bella to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the minister finally asked.

With absolute sincerity, I replied, "I do."

"And do you, Bella, take Edward to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Sweeter words were never spoken. Bella's voice was pure and clear as she said, "I do."

We exchanged rings. Esme had purchased them for us in St. Paul. Both were 18 karat rose gold, with a motif of alternating flowers, leaves, and bars encircling the band. I had sketched the design; it reminded me of the meadow where I had taken Bella shortly after I first realized that I loved her.

"With this ring," I said, sliding the band onto her slender finger, "I thee wed."

She took my cool hand in her warm one and repeated the words as she carefully slipped the ring onto my finger. She was beaming, her eyes shining with joyful tears.

I stood through the final blessing, hearing nothing but the lovely beating of her heart. At last we were officially pronounced husband and wife, and I was told that I could kiss my bride. I did, keeping her hand in mine and leaning in to capture her lips lightly.

"I love you," she murmured as I reluctantly drew away.

"And I love you," I whispered back.

Then we turned to face the guests, met by delighted grins. I did not release Bella's hand as the minister offered his congratulations and our parents and friends offered us warm embraces and good wishes. But my unwillingness to separate myself from her was not pragmatic this time: I simply wanted to touch my beautiful wife.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Note: <strong>They're married! Now the honeymoon awaits..._

_I apologize for not responding to all of the wonderful reviews for the last chapter. I had to choose between doing that and getting this chapter ready for posting, and I chose the latter. I'm sorry, and I promise to do better next time.  
><em>


	33. Chapter 33

Angela had insisted on hosting a small reception to celebrate the wedding. We walked from the church to the store, where Ben led us through to the house. The small dining room table was laden with food, and I wondered how Angela had managed to prepare all of it.

Mrs. Withers caught me eying the spread and chuckled. "Surprised?" she asked. "Everyone wanted to bring something." She pointed to a ham. "That's from Mrs. Nielsen."

Mr. Nielsen was the miller whose leg I had sutured. I shook my head in wonder. Other townspeople, several of whom I had never met, has also sent food. Their generosity touched me, and I vowed to thank each one at the earliest opportunity.

Bella seemed to enjoy visiting with everyone and nibbling at the food. But after about an hour, her gaze wandered back to me with increasing frequency. It was now nearly nine o'clock, and we had a fairly long journey ahead of us. Pragmatic issues aside, I was eager to have my wife to myself, selfish creature that I was.

Angela insisting on packing a basket of food for us, so we said our farewells as she busied herself in the kitchen. More hugs and congratulations were exchanged, but finally we were able to leave.

Bella gave her mother a final embrace, and Carlisle and Esme each kissed her on the cheek and told her how thrilled they were to have her join the family. I shook Carlisle's hand and gave Esme a kiss on the forehead then thanked them for all they had done.

Very quickly and softly, Carlisle said to me, "I will be thinking of you, son. I know that all will be well."

I nodded gratefully, then I slid my arm around Bella and led her away.

We were both grinning as we drove away from Madras. I had not told Bella our destination, wanting to have at least one small surprise for her. I hoped she would be pleased. We would need to drive much of the night, but once we reached the coast we would remain at the cove for an entire week.

"Mrs. Cullen," I said happily, pulling her toward me.

She kissed my cheek, her lips lingering against my cold skin. "Mmm, I love hearing that," she purred.

"My wife, Mrs. Cullen," I amended, grinning at the sound of those four magical words.

She giggled softly. "My husband," she murmured. "You're my husband."

* * *

><p>We drove through the darkness for several hours. I felt immersed in peace, surrounded by stillness. Bella remained tucked against my side, her head resting against my chest. The night had grown chilly, but she refused to move away, instead tucking a blanket around her knees.<p>

"You looked gorgeous," I said after a stretch of comfortable silence.

"Thank you. Esme did a lovely job with the dress…"

She smoothed her hand over the bodice. It was the same gown Esme had worn for her wedding, but my wonderful mother had altered it to fit Bella, making a few small yet pretty changes, such as adding more delicate lace and a number of seed pearls around the bodice. Bella had been very touched by the gesture and willingly accepted the expensive gown for the sentiment of it.

Reaching for her hand again, I replied, "It's only as lovely as the woman who wears it."

"Hmm. Well, I'm sure you were the handsomest groom who ever stood at an altar…"

"Hardly."

"Oh Edward, do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" Her small hand pressed over my chest, warmth permeating me.

"It only matters that you find me pleasing."

She laughed at that. "More than pleasing, my husband—so much more."

Her daring little hand slid down, her fingers caressing my ribs as her thumb rubbed over my abdomen. The touch sent a small jolt through me. I could feel my body beginning to respond.

"Let's stop for a few minutes," I said, trying to keep my voice even.

"Any particular reason?" she asked huskily.

"I—" I swallowed. "I need to put some more gasoline in the motorcar."

She sighed. "Oh, all right."

I slowed then stopped the vehicle. Bella climbed out to stretch her legs while I removed the fuel can from the back and poured gasoline into the tank. When I had finished, she came up behind me, wrapping her arms around me. Her body pressed against mine. I could feel the soft roundness of her breasts, and her smell was heavenly. Abruptly, I turned, pulling her toward me again as I bent to kiss her. This was the kiss I wished I could have given her at the altar. One of my hands tangled in her hair while the other brazenly rested just below the small of her back. The slight swell of her bottom brushed my fingertips.

The kiss left her breathless and flushed, her scent even more delectable. One of the flowers had fallen from her hair, and I bent to retrieve it, tucking it back between the strands. She watched me with wide, dark eyes.

"How much longer?" she asked.

"We have another three hours to go," I replied before it occurred to me that perhaps she was inquiring about something other than our arrival at our destination.

"Three hours," she repeated slowly. "And then… we're there."

"Yes," I said.

"Then let's go," she urged, already climbing back inside the vehicle.

"What's the rush, Mrs. Cullen?" I asked with an arch of my eyebrow.

She replied with a smile and a blush.

* * *

><p>As we neared the coast, I grew more anxious. Bella had been curled against me since we started driving again, her hand moving from my chest to my stomach to my leg. Her touches were always light, but the new boldness left my senses in a state of perpetual agitation.<p>

What did she expect of me tonight? I had realized that the trip would require many hours, and I suppose a part of me had anticipated that Bella would wish to do nothing more than sleep once we arrived. That would give me a little more time to build my resolve.

Yet she remained wide awake. Sometimes her heart would flutter rapidly, and I was fairly certain I knew what was causing this. Her scent fluctuated, too, deepening when her heartbeat increased. I began to notice that these coincided with the position of her hand upon me.

I debated whether I should say something to her. We had discussed my limitations as a husband, but it seemed that she had forgotten the conversation. Did I need to remind her? Several times I opened my mouth to speak, but then I felt the heat of her skin and inhaled her fragrance, and I swallowed my words.

It was past two o'clock in the morning when we saw the lights of Newport to the north. I continued south, heading down the coast. I could smell the ocean tang amid the thick foliage. Pine forests grew almost to the edge of the water here. For several miles we drove along a narrow, deserted road, then a faint glow became visible to my discerning eyes. I watched for the turn-off, which I had been told was through a break in the trees.

A small, hand-written placard was tacked to the trunk of a scrub pine. It said, "Cullen." I saw the gap between the pines and turned the car toward it. Bella sat up straighter.

"Are we almost there?" she asked excitedly.

"Yes, love. It's just a few more minutes now."

I followed the tiny dirt track, the vehicle bumping along over the rough ground. After about fifty yards, we reached the edge of a cliff. I stopped the car and helped Bella out. I grabbed two of the valises with one hand and slid my other arm around her waist.

"It's just down here," I informed her, nodding toward the path along the cliff side.

It was fairly steep, so I kept my grip on her relatively firm. Even so, she stumbled once, and my hand tightened around her waist. She regained her footing then gasped when she looked up.

The trees had been cleared to make room for a house. It was solidly built from cedar, with a stone chimney and sturdy roof. A lantern glowed softly in the front window. It was just as I had pictured it from Esme's description.

"Welcome, love," I said, leading her to the door. I asked her to wait while I darted inside to light lanterns. As soon as the house was illuminated, I returned to her side and lifted her into my arms.

We stepped inside, where I paused to kiss her before setting her gently on her feet. She looked around, her eyes bright. The small foyer in which we stood led to a pleasantly open room with a large hearth. A sofa and two wing chairs sat before the fireplace. Two walls were lined with bookshelves, all fully stocked. To our left was the kitchen, large enough to accommodate a little dining table and two chairs.

"There's a lavatory through there," I explained, gesturing toward a narrow door on the other side of the room. It had been something of a feat to install indoor plumbing in this remote area, but Esme had insisted it was worth the trouble and expense. Of course I did not tell Bella this.

Bella looked all around, her expression one of delight and wonder. When her gaze moved to the staircase in the corner, I told her, "The bedroom is upstairs."

I set the bags on the floor then followed her as she climbed the stairs to the spacious loft. When I heard her little "Oh!" I knew she had seen the view.

French doors opened onto a terrace. Just below this lay the cove. The water sparkled in the silvery moonlight.

"Edward, this is… oh my, this is wonderful!" She stood with her hands clasped over her heart. "Who owns it?"

"We do," I replied. "Well, technically Carlisle and Esme do, but they won't be spending much time here, and we're welcome to use it whenever we like."

"I don't understand," she said, her pretty brow furrowing. "They live in St. Paul…"

I nodded. "Yes. But they both love the seashore, and they thought it would be nice to have a home here, closer to us. Carlisle hopes to take a vacation here at least once a year."

"How long have they owned this?"

"A few months. They purchased the property through a broker in Newport then contracted a builder—"

"Wait," she said, holding up her hand. "They just had this built?"

I nodded.

"Edward Cullen! Don't you dare tell me that they bought land and built a house for us!"

Her ire was adorable. I walked to her and wrapped her in my arms. "I won't. We may be the first Cullens to use it, but it really is for them."

She remained dubious, but I could tell that her momentary pique was fading. Her gaze moved to the water again, and a little sigh escaped her.

"You like it?" I whispered in her ear.

"I do." She lifted her arm to rest her hand against my cheek. "It's so quiet, and so beautiful… it's just perfect."

She took a few minutes to look around the bedroom. Esme had selected and ordered furnishings that suited the place perfectly. The large bed had white filigreed iron head and footboards. The soft linens were pale blue. An armoire and dresser in light, polished pine stood against two of the walls, and night tables of the same wood sat on either side of the bed. A beautiful Tiffany glass lantern adorned the top of the dresser, and brass sconces shone softly on the walls on either side of the doorway. On one night table there was a crystal vase filled with lilies, softly scenting the room.

An alcove held a vanity and dressing area. This was next to the fireplace. Esme had worried that Bella would be chilled in the damp ocean air, so she had maintained that a small bedroom fireplace was necessary.

After lighting the kindling, I dashed downstairs to get the bags, setting Bella's in the alcove before telling her I would be right back. I ran to the car to get the rest of our luggage.

When I returned, Bella was in the kitchen, inspecting the provisions Esme had arranged. The pantry was well-stocked, I thought. A little ice box held a bottle of fresh milk, a dozen eggs, several packages of meat, and two blocks of dark yellow cheese.

"Who put all this here?" she asked me.

"There's a caretaker," I explained. "She lives close to Newport and will prepare the house shortly before Carlisle and Esme or we arrive—although there's little they'll need when they come here."

She smiled in understanding. "Will the caretaker be coming back this week?"

"No, love. She's been given instructions to give us privacy. If we need anything, we can go to town to get it." I had set the basket Angela prepared on the counter. "Are you hungry, darling?" I asked.

"Not really." Still, she peeked inside and took out a cookie, nibbling it delicately while I poured a glass of milk for her. She drank it then stood and stretched.

"You must be tired," I began.

She nodded slowly. "I think it's time for us to go to bed," she said, her cheeks growing pink.

She reached up to remove the flowers from her hair, setting them in a bowl with water. Then she loosened the pins, letting her hair fall in sable waves over her shoulders. It smelled divine.

She held out her hand to me, and I could not help myself from taking it. She led me to the stairs, and we climbed up together. She pushed up onto her toes to kiss me softly, then she turned and walked to the alcove.

I heard the snap as she opened the valise, then the light swish of fabric. I removed my jacket and unbuttoned my vest. My hands trembled slightly as I unfastened the cufflinks and took off my tie. I undid the top two buttons of my shirt and toed off my shoes, then I sat down on the bed with slow, deliberate movements. Sitting rigidly, hands clasped tightly before me, I awaited my bride.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's Note:** _The rating has changed to M. I apologize if this has caused any confusion or disappointment. Please be aware that this chapter is intended for mature readers only._

* * *

><p>Bella stepped out of the alcove and into the candlelight. Her hair flowed over her bare arms. My eyes drank in the creamy skin of her neck and chest. She wore a pale rose, silk nightdress. The neckline was lower and wider than that of her wedding gown, revealing her delicate collarbones and the gentle swell of her bosom. Short, fluttery sleeves lined with fine lace covered only her shoulders. Soft pleats drew the bodice enticingly over her breasts, and a satin ribbon was tied beneath them. The hem swept her ankles. The fabric was almost diaphanous, subtly sheer so that I could glimpse the outline of her hips and legs.<p>

She looked glorious. I rose and walked toward her, cupping her cheeks in my hands.

"My love," I said, kissing her perfect mouth, softly at first then with more ardor.

Her little tongue darted between my open lips, and mine sought the warmth of her mouth. She tasted wonderful, faintly floral and subtly sweet. I inhaled her scent, letting it envelop me. A delightful tingling sensation swept down from my mouth to low in my belly.

One of Bella's hands slid into my hair, while the other slipped beneath my collar. Her heated fingers caressed my nape as I pulled away to kiss her cheeks and brow. My lips continued their journey, seeking her earlobe and the tender skin beneath it. I kissed her jaw then her throat, my tongue flicking out to taste the pulse point. It was luscious, and I swallowed back a trickle of venom that tickled the back of my throat.

I paused to inhale, my gaze meeting hers. She was flushed; a delicate blush spread over her cheeks, throat, and chest. I traced a line from her ear to her clavicle, relishing the heat of her flesh. Her heart was beating very quickly, its rhythm a song that captivated me completely. I rested my hand lightly above her left breast and let the wonderful pulsing wash through me.

She gazed at me, her expression one of both adoration and longing. I let my hand fall as I murmured, "Beautiful."

In the glow of the firelight, I could see her body silhouetted through the gown: the soft curves of her hipbones, the length of her legs, and a hint of darkness in the little space between the tops of her thighs. She wore nothing beneath the filmy nightdress.

My hand rose of its own volition, and I grasped the satin bow with my fingers. In an instant it was untied, loosening the bodice. Bella did not move, and her eyes never left my face.

My gaze, however, lowered as my fingers slid beneath the fabric covering her shoulders. I pushed it down, exposing each shoulder and the top of both arms. With the movement of the fabric, her scent intensified, swirling through the room. I drew in a slow breath, savoring the luscious aroma.

But my other senses begged for satisfaction, too. My eyes craved the sight of her, and my hands yearned to touch more of her soft, warm skin. I pulled her gown lower, exposing the pale, soft swell of her breasts until I saw a hint of dusky pink. I stilled for a moment.

Bella's heart was pounding, and her breaths were shallow. I looked up to see that she was still watching my face intently. Her lips were parted and moist, her cheeks very rosy. She looked glorious. And then her mouth moved, and she gave me a small smile.

"My darling," I whispered, "my wonderful love." I kept my eyes upon her face.

My hands brushed the outer edges of her silky breasts as I slid the fabric lower. When it fell to her waist, I lowered my gaze again. The nightdress slipped over her hips then pooled at her feet. She was naked before me.

I gasped softly at the sight. Her skin was smooth and pale, taut over her hips and supple over her belly. Her arms were delicate and slim, and her legs were slender yet shapely. The little patch of sable hair at the apex of her thighs looked silken. My eyes moved up again to the gentle roundness of her breasts with their rosy centers. She was utter perfection.

"You are exquisite," I breathed, taking her hands and kissing them. I kissed her wrists, her elbows, her shoulders, and all along her collar bone.

Then I lifted her into my arms and carried her the short distance to the bed. I placed her carefully upon the mattress then spent a long moment just gazing at her. When she reached up to tug at the lowest button on my shirt, I understood her silent request.

I unbuttoned my shirt, and she sat up to push it back over my shoulders. I shrugged out of it. I wore a thin undershirt beneath, and her fingers traced along the top, trailing over the skin of my chest.

"I want to see you," she said softly. "Please."

I could deny her nothing. I pulled off the small garment and let it drop to the floor. She placed her palms upon my chest then ran her hands slowly downward, over my ribs and to the waistband of my trousers.

"Please," she requested again.

I swallowed then unfastened the buttons and pushed the trousers down over my hips. I stepped out of them. Now I wore only my knee-length, cotton drawers. The thin fabric did little to restrain the evidence of my arousal.

Bella's eyes moved down, and her soft fingertips glided over my knees then to the hem of my drawers. Her fingers fluttered over the fabric covering my legs, brushing my hips then coming to rest at my waist. Her thumbs stroked over my skin, each touch igniting another little spark within my body.

I climbed onto the bed and pulled her to me, capturing her mouth in a deep kiss. Her breasts pressed against my chest, her hardened little peaks nudging at my cold, marble skin.

My mouth left hers, trailing kisses down the length of her throat then over each shoulder. Her taste was even more sumptuous than before. I kissed the top of her left breast then the soft curve at the bottom.

My hands guided her to lie against the pillows, then I rose up on my knees to look down upon her again. She was absolute perfection.

I traced her hips with my fingers, allowing them to trail up over her sides then caress the gentle curve along the outside of each breast. When I ventured further and brushed my thumbs over the darker skin at the center, she gasped.

"Edward," she murmured huskily, "I love you. So much."

Her voice, her taste, her smell all wrapped around me, sparking and tingling. My drawers strained to contain my arousal. I swallowed back another dribble of venom then replied, "I love you, too, darling. There aren't even words to tell you how much."

"Show me," she whispered, her hand coming to rest upon my bare back. Her fingers moved in small strokes along the base of my spine.

I lowered my head to kiss her right breast, moving my lips inward until her nipple brushed against my lower lip. She moaned, and her fingers curled, nails scratching lightly over my back.

My tongue darted out to taste the pink bud. Bella gasped, and her fragrance intensified. "Mmm," she purred.

I kissed her nipple softly once, twice, a third time, then I took it gently between my lips. She wriggled beneath me, both hands now pressing against my back. I moved to her left breast, giving it the same loving attention. Then I drew back to drink in the splendid sight of her once more.

She lay with her head nestled in the pillows, red lips open, cheeks and chest deeply flushed. I had never seen anything so astonishingly beautiful in my entire existence.

"My God," I exhaled.

I lowered my head again to kiss her belly, moving my tongue around her little navel. My hands fell to her hips, my fingers sliding around to feel the soft swell of her bottom. My own hips were pressed against the mattress, and each minute movement I made sent a new spark through my rigid length. I could feel the fabric of my drawers rubbing against my overly sensitized skin. My body entreated me to find Bella's warmth, to immerse myself in the only balm that would soothe me.

The rational part of me held back, though. I would bring Bella all the pleasure that I was able while taking nothing from her. I would show her the depths of my love for both her body and her soul.

I focused my attention on her heartbeat and breathing, noting the minuscule changes that signaled that I had found a particularly lovely spot to kiss or lick…one and one-eight inch below her navel, three-quarters of an inch to the left of her right hipbone, the juncture of her left thigh…

As my fingers caressed the tops of Bella's thighs, I nuzzled the downy thatch of hair. Then slowly I eased her legs apart, releasing a surge of fragrance that nearly obliterated my resolve. It was heavenly, and I wanted nothing more than to envelop myself in it. I lowered my eyes to gaze at the glistening, pink flesh.

"Edward," Bella murmured, placing her hand upon my head.

I looked up. She was still flushed, still very aroused, but a tiny crease had appeared between her eyebrows.

"Yes, my love?" I asked.

"You needn't…" She took a little shaky breath. "You don't have to look…"

Her flush deepened. Was she embarrassed?

"Darling," I said, my voice quite raspy, "you are so beautiful. Every part of you is indescribably lovely. You are truly a feast for my senses. To gaze upon you is divine."

"Oh…" Then a shy smile crept over her lips.

I reached up to stroke her breast, and she sank back into the pillows with another small moan of pleasure. Grinning like the thoroughly besotted man that I was, I kissed the inside of each thigh then ran my fingers through her curls, savoring the interesting texture, so different from the hair on her head. My hand ventured lower, and my fingertips whispered over the slick, sensitive flesh. Bella gasped, her hips lifting slightly.

"Edward," she panted, "stop."

Immediately I froze. Had I hurt her? "I'm sorry, love—"

She shook her head. "No, don't be. That's… wonderful. But I want…" She bit her lower lip lightly as she reached for the waistband of my drawers. "Please, I want to see you."

"Bella, no—"

"Yes. Please."

Again I found that I could not refuse her. So when her hands tugged at my drawers, I did not stop her. She pulled them down over my hips then eased them away more gently to free my erection. I glanced down quickly, well aware of what I would see, then looked anxiously at her face. Would she be upset or frightened?

"Take them off," she whispered, unable to proceed further due to my kneeling position.

I got off the bed and stood to remove the garment fully. When I straightened, she was staring down at the most private part of me. Her eyes were wide, and her lips were parted. Slowly she sat up. She was appalled, repulsed…

"Bella, I—"

She shook her head. "Oh Edward. You're so beautiful." Her voice was rich and sincere, and her expression was one of adoration. She held out her hands to me. "Come here."

I climbed back onto the bed, and immediately she moved to sit facing me. She ran her palm down my stomach then brushed the back of her hand over my entire length. A shiver of pleasure ran through me at the intimacy and tenderness of her touch.

She scooted closer, kissing me fervently. My hands ran down her back and swept the curves of her bottom. I did not realize that I had lifted her and placed her in my lap until I felt her heat and wetness against my thigh.

I moved quickly, laying her upon the mattress once again. I delivered kisses to her face, her neck, her breasts. She moaned and tangled her hands in my hair. Her leg wrapped around my thighs, urging my body closer to hers.

"Bella," I huffed, "no…"

"Yes, Edward. Please."

"I can't. You know I can't." It was nearly a sob.

"Yes you can, darling." She took my face in her hands and met my gaze. "Together," she whispered. "United in both heart _and_ body."

God help me, I wanted it. I wanted this more than anything. To know that Bella and I were truly one seemed the most astonishing, yet most natural, thing in the world. Coherent thought began to fail me as she lifted her hips and her curls tickled my length. The scent of her arousal was overwhelming and intoxicating.

I felt woozy with the intensity of my desire. My rationality departed me. The few remaining shreds urged me to say, "You must tell me…tell me if I hurt you."

"You won't, Edward." Her thumb rubbed over my cheek, smoothing away the tense creases around my mouth.

"Bella, please," I entreated softly, "promise me you'll tell me."

She nodded and pulled my head down to kiss my lips softly. Then she shifted her legs apart, offering herself completely to me.

I swallowed back the drops of venom trickling over my tongue. My hand fell to her thigh, caressing the soft, warm skin. Fingers creeping upward, I was drawn to her heat. I felt the slickness on her inner thigh, clear evidence that she was ready for me. Tentatively I rested my fingers over the center of her heat, savoring the warmth and wetness.

A little gasp escaped her when I carefully slid my finger inside. I stroked her gently, gradually moving in more deeply. Her body clenched around me, and she moaned. I glanced up to see an expression of pure pleasure upon her face. I perceived no fear, no hesitation from her. I added a second finger, mindful to keep my motions slow so that she could adjust to the intrusion. She clamped down around me again. She was very close to climaxing.

My own release was imminent as well. The mere friction of the duvet as I shifted slightly nearly sent me over the edge. How would her heated, slick flesh feel against me, _around _me?

Suppressing a groan, I lifted my hips and withdrew my fingers. I moved forward, aligning my body to hers, and then I lowered myself until my tip touched her swollen folds.

Our eyes met for a long moment, my gaze searching hers for any indication of hesitation, but there was none.

"Yes," she whispered, a single word to confirm her wishes.

Her arms wrapped around my back, pulling my body to hers. I cradled her head in my hand. I took a long, steadying breath.

I entered her slowly, tentatively, and immediately heat enveloped me. I wanted more. But I needed control; I needed to remember how fragile she was and how new this would be for her. I pushed in with minutely measured motions, trying to attend to her body to gauge how she was feeling. But the sensations she created as she engulfed me were unimaginably wonderful, and it was difficult to concentrate on anything else.

"Edward," she breathed, her fingers pressing against my spine.

Her voice was my undoing. Her simple act of speaking my name shattered my control. My hips jerked forward. The small impediment I felt inside her suddenly disappeared, and I found myself buried fully within her. So overwhelmed was I that I barely registered her gasp of pain. Her heartbeat thudded in my ears, and when I inhaled I smelled salt and blood.

"Bella," I groaned, trying desperately to regain my senses.

"I'm all right," she said hoarsely. "Don't stop."

She shifted a bit beneath me, encouraging me to move within her. I pulled out slightly, then, with gentler motions, pushed in again. With each small thrust, the coil in my belly wound tighter, and the tension throughout my entire pelvis was delicious yet urgent. I stilled for a long moment, breathing slowly to clear my mind.

My eyes moved to her face. Tears glistened in her eyes, and she was biting her lip. However, her hand remained upon my back, fingers brushing over my skin, soothing me and calming me.

"Bella?" I questioned, desperate to continue but frightened that I was causing her pain.

She inhaled deeply then exhaled, releasing her lip and smiling at me. "We're together," she said softly, "truly one now." A tear overflowed and trickled down her cheek. "I love you, Edward."

"And I love you, too… more than words can express."

She gave me a little nod, lightly raking her fingernails over the small of my back. I kissed her deeply then began moving again. I was so close, my body taut with keen anticipation. She was so tight around me, beneath me, above me.

Through the haze of corporeal pleasure, I remembered how she had responded when I stroked her with my fingers. I shifted slightly to touch the area inside of her that had brought her joy before. I kept my movements rhythmic but barely controlled. One stroke, two, another… and the coil inside me was breaking, flaring and flaming as incredible warmth spread through me. Four, five… I took a long breath, and then I felt Bella's body contracting around me.

I kissed her harder as her heart thumped wildly. My hand found her breast and my fingers sought her nipple. When I rubbed my fingertip over it, Bella moaned and clenched around me even harder. Her hips jerked beneath me, and I let myself go completely.

Pleasure cascaded through me with the release. I inhaled her scent, tasted her mouth and lips, then wrapped my arms around her to hold her to me. Her legs were twined around mine, her heart still pounding as she continued to twitch around me. She was panting, and I could smell the sweat on her skin.

"My God, Edward," she moaned. "Oh my God."

I nuzzled her hair as I waited for both of our bodies to still completely. When she began to relax, I withdrew from her, albeit it rather reluctantly. I was certain I could remain inside her for the rest of my existence…

The scent of her blood was heavy in the air now. I swallowed back venom and focused upon my breathing for several long seconds. All the pleasure I had felt dissipated in an instant with the knowledge that I had harmed her. She was still in my arms, but I pulled back. She sank down limply with a heavy sigh.

"Bella," I said as soon as I could speak, "I've hurt you." My eyes moved down to the crimson spot upon the duvet. A bit of blood was smeared between her thighs, too.

She shook her head. "I'm fine, darling. More than fine, really. That was wonderful."

"But you're bleeding—"

With some reticence, she said, "I thought that always happened… the first time?"

She was right, of course; a small amount of bleeding was normal with a woman's first experience. I suppose I had expected it, but somehow the actual occurrence still caught me off guard. And it was possible—likely, in fact—that I had been too rough, that I had injured her with the intensity and carelessness of my movements.

"Edward," she said, touching my cheek to draw me from my dire musings, "really, I'm all right."

But her words did little to appease my worry. I began to sit up, intent on examining her to see what sort of damage my thoughtless behavior had inflicted upon her.

However, she yawned, and a sleepy sigh escaped her. She shifted a little as she reached for the edge of the duvet, pulling it over herself. Her eyelids were drooping; she was slipping into slumber.

"Stay with me… until I fall asleep?" she asked, her voice slightly slurred.

"I will stay with you always," I replied, kissing her hair and tucking the blanket around her shoulders. Then I pulled her into my arms, and she relaxed completely. She was asleep within a minute.

I glanced outside. The sky was gray now; dawn was approaching. I waited a little while until Bella's slumber was deep, then I moved away from her, carefully easing her onto her back. I sat up and pulled the blanket away to expose the lower half of her body.

The absolute perfection of her pale, slender, well-shaped legs; smooth, flat belly; and gently rounded hips caused a quiver of desire in my loins, but I pushed aside the thought to focus my attention on her scent. I inhaled purposefully. I could still smell Bella's sweet, honeyed blood, but the fragrance was muted now; the bleeding had stopped. My eyes moved to the scarlet stain upon the bed. I felt some meager comfort when I noted that it represented only a small amount of blood. Most likely if I had caused significant damage there would be a greater quantity.

Even so, I spent several long moments with all of my senses devoted to her physical condition. I found no evidence to indicate serious injury. I rested my hand over her abdomen as I permitted the rational part of my mind to accept that I had not harmed her.

Finally I exhaled a sigh of true relief and set my hands at my sides. A little crease appeared between Bella's eyebrows at the loss of contact, and her lips moved to whisper my name in her sleep.

"My wife, my love," I murmured reverently, covering her again before placing the softest kiss upon her forehead.

Then I settled beside her and pulled her into my arms once again. Immediately she snuggled into me then fell into deep slumber more.

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> _Do you want to see more of Bella's and Edward's romantic honeymoon scenes? I have a couple more written but don't know how much readers want to see. I would appreciate your feedback on this. These types of scenes are not my usual work, so I feel a bit nervous about this-and subsequent-chapter(s). Thanks! _


	35. Chapter 35

Bella slept until nearly noon. I remained beside her for all but a few minutes. Shortly after dawn I removed the stained duvet and covered her with a clean, thick quilt. I also donned my drawers and undershirt so that my skin would not feel quite as cold against her. Aside from these brief activities, I did not leave her.

She began to rouse with a few murmured, sleepy words that I could not decipher. I rose up on my elbow so that I could watch her face. She was so beautiful. Her cheeks were lightly flushed with the warmth of her quilted cocoon, and her hair was delightfully tousled from our earlier activities. Her eyelids fluttered, then she opened her eyes.

"Good morning, love," I said softly, stroking her cheek.

"Edward…" She smiled and sighed. "I thought for a moment… oh, I had the most wonderful dream…" Her blush deepened.

I kissed her lips gently then drew back. "How do you feel, darling?"

She wriggled around a bit then rolled onto her back. "Fine…"

"Are you certain? Are you sure you aren't sore?" My gaze flicked downward.

"Mmm, just a little, but it's not bad." Her stomach rumbled then. "Mostly I'm hungry—famished, actually."

"I'll prepare breakfast for you, and then I think a nice, warm bath will ease your soreness."

She nodded and began to sit up. Abruptly she gasped and stilled, one hand moving to her side.

"Bella?" I asked, alarmed. Clearly she was in pain, but, surprisingly, the source was her flank.

I flung back the covers to reveal her bare torso. Just beneath her ribcage, on the left side, was a deep bruise. To my horror, I saw that the size and shape exactly matched my hand.

"Oh God," I cried, "I hurt you!"

Bella looked down, her hand hovering over the hideous contusion. "I don't think…" she began, but I would have none of her placation now. She tried to cover the mark with the edge of the blanket.

"No," I said sharply, "let me see."

She blinked at me, setting her hands upon the mattress. Her heart was pounding, and she was very pale now. She sat without moving as I gently probed the injury, feeling the ribs directly above for any indications of fractures. Fortunately they were intact, and I found no evidence of internal injury. Still, it was a deep and ugly bruise.

I hung my head in shame. I had felt so relieved last night, so ludicrously confident that I had not harmed her. Why hadn't I thought to check the rest of her body? I had held her, hugged her, gripped her entirely too hard…

I moved around so that I could view her back then asked her to roll over so that I could see her buttocks and legs. There were a few light bruises on the backs of her thighs, and when she shifted to her back again I found several additional marks on the fronts of her thighs. These were much lighter than the contusion on her flank, but they were bruises all the same.

"I'm a monster," I said miserably. "I'm so sorry, Bella. I should never have permitted myself to be with you. I was selfish—"

She sat up again and pressed her fingers over my lips. "Be quiet, Edward," she said firmly. "Just stop that. You're not thinking clearly."

I opened my mouth to protest, but she pressed harder, shaking her head.

"Just think," she said. "Remember when we were walking along the path from the motorcar? I stumbled, and you caught me. Your hand wrapped around me _here_." She touched the bruise on her side. "This happened before we ever set foot in the house, let alone this bedroom. You didn't hurt me. Quite the opposite, in fact. I've never felt _anything_ like that before." Her cheeks grew pink again. "It was wonderful."

I had to admit that she was right about the cause of the large contusion. My flawless memory replayed the moment when I had clutched at her to keep her from falling. There was no excuse, of course, for hurting her, whatever the context, but the selfish part of me felt some relief in the knowledge that she had not been badly injured during our love-making.

"I'm sorry," I said, my tone soft and remorseful. "I didn't mean to do that… I'll be more careful in the future."

"I know. It's all right, sweetheart. Please don't feel badly about it."

She scooted forward to kiss me, her tongue sliding between my parted lips. My hands came to rest gently over her back. I felt longing begin to coil within me again, so I drew back. This was not the time to indulge in my selfish desires. Bella needed to eat, then I would ensure that she soaked in a warm bath long enough to alleviate her soreness.

She pouted playfully at me, slipping her hand up under my thin shirt. I had to repress a groan at the surge of arousal her mere touch caused within me.

"You need breakfast," I said rather huskily.

I stood and darted into the dressing area. A robe that matched the lovely nightdress she had worn briefly was draped across the chair before the vanity. I took the soft garment and returned to the bed.

Bella stood, wincing slightly when she straightened fully. I helped her into the robe then asked, "Darling, would you like something to help with the pain?"

She shook her head. "It's nothing. Really, I'm sure I'll feel good as new after my bath."

I took her hand and began to lead her across the room. However, she paused as we passed the window. Looking outside, she gasped and said, "Oh!"

The sun was shining brightly, and the cove lay directly below us. Silvery-blue water sparkled in the light, framed by the dark, rugged rocks. The gray sand glittered softly.

"Beautiful," she said.

My eyes moved back to her face. "Yes," I agreed, "absolutely breathtaking."

* * *

><p>After a breakfast of eggs, ham, and potatoes, I prepared a bath for Bella. I helped her out of her robe, then she sank slowly into the warm water, settling her head against the folded towel I had placed on the edge of the tub. She sighed and closed her eyes.<p>

"This feels nice," she said.

I knelt on the floor beside her. "I'm glad."

As the water cleared, her glorious body was revealed to me once again. My gaze ran slowly from her face to her breasts, savoring the little peaks of her pink nipples. I was certain I had never seen a lovelier shade of rose before. My eyes moved down, a frown creasing my brow as the ugly bruise assaulted my vision again. Yet it did not detract from the soft curves of her hips and legs.

She shifted slightly, as though she were trying to get comfortable. I heard the slight increase in her heart rate and felt that she was experiencing some discomfort.

"Would you let me give you something for your pain, love?" I offered again.

"I'm just a little sore. It's really nothing."

I sighed. She would not admit to feeling any significant pain. Still, I would do what I could to assuage her aches. I moved behind her and slid my hands into the water so that I could rub gently at her neck and shoulders. While I knew this was not the source of her soreness, I hoped that she would derive some comfort from the release of residual tension in her muscles.

She seemed to enjoy the massage, and soon I had immersed my arms up to my elbows so that I could knead along her spine and lower back. I was careful to avoid any contact with the bruised area.

"Mmm, that's nice," she murmured. Her eyes were closed, and she sounded sleepy.

"Do you want to wash, darling?" I asked softly.

"Yes… I suppose so." She opened her eyes half-way and lifted her hand to reach for the soap.

"Allow me," I said, taking the bar and a washcloth in my hand. I dipped the cloth into the water then rubbed the soap over it vigorously to create a good lather.

Bella sank back again with a smile. I ran the washcloth over her neck, shoulders, and chest. A small, happy hum escaped her when I gently bathed her breasts then moved down to rub lightly over her belly and hips. I lifted each leg and moved the cloth from thigh to foot. When I was finished, I asked if she wanted me to wash her back.

She leaned forward, again wincing slightly, but she said nothing. I bathed the lovely, pale expanse of skin then encouraged her to lower herself into the water again to rinse away the soap. The temperature was cooling—most likely due in part to my cold hands—and I did not wish for her to become chilled. So I stood and took a large, soft towel from the cabinet and unfolded it.

"The water's getting cold," I said.

She nodded and rose from the bathtub, water dripping down her body. I had maintained some degree of composure throughout her bath, but now the sight of her sent a jolt of stimulation through me. I became aroused almost instantly.

I held the towel over my hips as I helped her from the tub, then I wrapped her in the thick fabric. Her eyes flicked downward, and she grinned knowingly. My thin drawers could not hide the effect she was having on me.

"Maybe we should go back to bed," she suggested, her cheeks quite pink.

I shook my head. "No, love. You're still sore. I don't want to cause you any more pain."

"I don't think it will hurt very much this time," she began.

"I think it will. We should wait until you're not feeling any more soreness and until this," I brushed my fingertips over the site of the bruise, "has started to heal."

Her lips moved into an adorable pout. "How long will that take?"

"Perhaps a day or two—"

She gave a little shake of her head. "That's too long."

"Sweetheart, I refuse to bring any further discomfort to you." My tone was loving but firm.

"Tonight, then," she said with that wonderful determination that I so adored. "I'll be better by tonight. I'm certain of it."

"We'll see," I replied. "Anyway, I want to go down to the beach today. It's really beautiful. I think you'll enjoy it."

"All right," she acquiesced. But the naughty minx lowered her hand to run her fingers over my hips, from one side to the other, before turning and walking away.

We both dressed in casual clothing—a simple cotton dress for Bella and white linen shirt and trousers for me—then left the house. I had a blanket over my arm and kept my other arm around my wife. When we reached the narrow, natural path that lead to the cove, I scooped her up, cradling her carefully as I leapt down to the sand below. I had decided not to risk another stumble if she attempted to climb down with me.

Bella gasped then laughed in delight when she realized what I had done. I kissed her before setting her on a smooth patch of sand. She turned to look out at the water. It was a deep azure against the clear afternoon sky. We had been fortunate to arrive during a few days of pleasant weather. It was sunny and warm but not hot.

I spread the blanket on the sand then sat down, offering my hand to her. She sank down, her movements still slightly stiff, then cuddled against my chest, still facing the water. I wrapped her in my arms, inhaling her fragrance, so pure in the fresh, clean air.

"This is perfect," she said.

"I'm glad you like it, Mrs. Cullen." I kissed the tip of her nose.

She smiled. "I like everything about it. I especially like hearing you say my name."

"Mrs. Cullen," I repeated. "Bella Cullen."

"Mmm, it sounds better with the 'Mrs.' I love feeling married."

"And what is it that makes you feel married?" I inquired playfully. "Is it this?" I lifted her hand to place a soft kiss over the ring upon her finger.

"That's part of it," she agreed. She ran her thumb over the band on my finger.

"And what else?"

Her cheeks grew pink. "Knowing that I can be with you—really and truly joined with you—feels absolutely wonderful."

I kissed her crown. Her hair was warm from the sun, and he scent was sweeter than ever. I wanted nothing more than to give myself over to my senses, but there was something I needed to know, something that had been bothering me.

"Sweetheart," I began, stroking her cheek softly and nestling her head beneath my chin, "will you tell me something?"

"Whatever you like…"

"Did it hurt very badly?"

"Hmm? No, I didn't even realize there would be a bruise—"

"No, I don't mean that, although I'm glad to hear it. I meant last night, when we were first together…"

She exhaled. "Oh." She did not answer my question.

"Bella, please. I need to know."

"Why? So that you can regret it? Because I don't. Not for one minute. That was the best night of my life."

"I don't regret it," I admitted. "And it was the best night of my life, too. I just… " I swallowed. "You were crying. It must have caused you considerable pain—"

She shook her head. "That's not why I was crying."

"It's not?"

"No, Edward. I was crying because I was so happy."

"You were? I thought I had hurt you, that the pain had brought your tears."

"It did hurt," she confessed, "but only for a minute, and not enough to make me cry. Goodness Edward, it's not as though I wasn't expecting it. I knew there'd be a little pain the first time. That's the way it's supposed to be."

"Did you speak with your mother about it?" I asked, curious. I could not recall that she had been alone with Mrs. Dwyer for more than a few moments.

"No. Esme and I talked."

"You did?" This truly surprised me.

I felt her nod beneath my chin. "She wanted to be sure I was prepared, that I knew what to expect."

"And when did you have this chat?"

"We talked a couple of times, first while she was fitting my dress, then again yesterday while she was helping me get ready. She told me I could ask her any questions I wanted…"

"You can ask me anything, too, you know—about anatomy or—"

Curtly, she interjected, "Um, thank you." She sounded a bit embarrassed. "But I think Esme was able to give me the information I… needed."

Making a mental note to send my mother a special gift of some sort, I responded, "That was very kind of her."

"It was. I'm grateful to her. Oh, and she gave me the negligee, too."

"Ah, I thought that looked like something she would choose. She has wonderful taste. It's beautiful—and you looked exquisite in it."

"Thank you."

"Mmm. You looked even more exquisite _out_ of it." The mere memory caused a twitch in my loins.

"I'll wear it again tonight," she replied, her hand running softly over my thigh, "if you like."

"Oh, I do," I nearly growled.

Lord help me, I could not stay away from her. But I would be certain I did not cause her any pain—even if it meant that I would experience no satisfaction myself. Knowing that I would bring pleasure to her was enough.

* * *

><p><em><strong><span>Note:<span>** Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I promise there will be more lemony scenes between Bella and Edward... the honeymoon is far from over. _;)


	36. Chapter 36

_**Note:** Once again, this chapter earns its M rating and is intended for mature readers only. It _is_ the couple's honeymoon, after all! :)  
><em>

* * *

><p>We enjoyed a lazy afternoon on the beach. After Bella was thoroughly warmed by the sun, she ventured to the shoreline to let the water curl over her bare toes. I joined her, wading out a bit deeper, as the cold caused no discomfort to me.<p>

She found several pretty shells and lifted them into her hands, studying them carefully and imagining the little creatures that had once dwelt in them. I loved her inquisitiveness and creativity.

When she expressed an interest in seeing what lay beyond our cove, I bent so that she could climb onto my back, then I scampered up over the cliff and down to the long stretch of beach beyond. She found more shells in the shallow water, delighting in each one.

A cool breeze swept in as the sun began to sink. When I saw Bella shiver, I decided it was time to return to the house. I could not warm her with my body, so I had no recourse but to take her inside.

As I helped her onto my back again, I could feel another little shudder run through her. My skin was causing her further chill. Cheerlessly I wondered if she would ever regret marrying a man with my limitations. I was unable to keep her warm. A touch of my hand could bruise her. And, perhaps worst of all, I could not give her children.

"Edward?" Her sweet, lilting voice pushed through the haze of my lugubrious musings. "Sweetheat, is something the matter?"

We were back at the house now. I lowered her to the ground. "No," I replied.

"You were very quiet, and you look so serious. What were you thinking about?"

"I was just worried that you were cold. Let's go inside, and I'll make a fire." I tried to smile, but it felt wooden to me.

"I'll make some tea. That will warm me up soon." She kissed me quickly then hurried inside.

I followed her and began placing wood in the hearth. How long would she tolerate the cold, powerful, barren creature she had married?

* * *

><p>Bella's merry demeanor drew me from my little funk; it was almost impossible to feel melancholy in the presence of her smile, her soft caresses, her melodic laugh. After she ate her supper, we sat before the hearth and I played my violin for her. I had composed a new song shortly before the wedding, the notes reminding me of her quiet yet vibrant character. She listened as I performed the piece, her expression one of joy. When I finished, she threw herself into my arms and kissed my cheeks, lips, and mouth, proclaiming the song the most beautiful she had ever heard, with the possible exception of her lullaby.<p>

I played the latter then, knowing how much she enjoyed it. By the final notes, she looked a little sleepy. She yawned discreetly as I was putting my violin back in its case. Of course I heard her.

"Perhaps it's time to think about going to bed," I suggested.

She nodded. "Yes."

I took her hand, and we ascended the stairs together. I prepared a fire and lit several candles, casting the room in soft, luminescent light. Bella retired to the alcove to change, and by the time she emerged I had changed, as well. Tonight I donned a flannel undershirt and long drawers. I hoped that I could hold her closely as she slept if I covered my cold limbs with heavier fabric.

Bella wore the pretty negligee again. She had brushed out her hair, too, and it shone in the gentle glow of the fire. She paused before the small hearth.

"It's so nice and warm here. Come and sit with me for a minute?"

A thick, soft rug was spread across the floor in front of the hearth. Bella sank down and held out her hand to me. I walked to her, took her hand in mine, and sat down.

"Move a little closer," she encouraged, nudging me softly toward the fire.

I did, and after a minute I could feel the heat upon my face, arms, and chest. I touched my undershirt to find it quite hot. Bella moved to kneel behind me, gripping the hem of my shirt with her nimble little fingers. When she began tugging it upward, I did not resist; I was curious to know what she was thinking.

I lifted my arms, and she pulled the shirt over my head, dropping it to the floor. She pressed her palms over my chest. "Mmm, you're already warm. Let's wait a bit longer…"

She ran her hands over my pectoral muscles then down along my abdomen. Her touch was igniting my desire, and, from the deepening of her scent, it seemed it was having a similar effect on her.

She pulled her hands away, and I missed her touch immediately. I heard a slight, soft rustle behind me, then she crept around to my side and urged me to turn to face her. She had removed her gown and was now completely bare before me. Her cheeks and neck were beautifully rosy in the firelight. My eyes moved down to her breasts. Her pretty nipples were peaking even as I watched.

She touched my chest again as she settled on her knees. Her legs were open a bit, and I could smell her arousal very distinctly now.

"Your skin feels wonderful," she said. "I love it when it's cool like marble, and I love it when it's like warm stone. Both are amazing."

My left hand was very close to the fire. I lifted it to her cheek. She sighed at the sensation, so different than my usual cold touch. I traced along her jawbone and trailed my fingertips over her neck. Then I cupped her breast, rubbing my thumb over her nipple. I bent to kiss it, loving the way it responded to the coolness of my lips.

I lifted my head to gazed at both tight, pink buds jutting out for me. When I took each gently between thumb and forefinger, rolling and squeezing very lightly, Bella arched her back, and her legs spread wider.

"Oh Edward," she gasped.

I glanced down further to see the glistening pink flesh between her thighs. "Are you still sore?" I choked out.

"No… everything feels wonderful."

I bent my head to take her right nipple into my mouth as I continued my ministrations upon the left. Her hands gripped at my hair, and she threw back her head. She was breathing heavily, and her heart was thumping wildly.

"Take… off…your pants," she commanded softly.

I obeyed instantly, ripping them away. Quickly I returned my hands to her lovely breasts. She began to lie back.

I shook my head, moving my hands to slide them under her bottom. "No, I have an idea," I said huskily. "Let's just try this…" Despite my lust-induced haze, I remained determined to prevent her from feeling any more pain.

I lifted Bella so that she sat upon my lap facing me. I could feel the heat and wetness radiating from her center. I returned one of my hands to her breast while the other moved downward to slide through her curls then to caress her slick, hot folds. She moaned at the touch. My finger entered her of its own accord, and she gave a little mewl. I glanced up at her face to ensure that it was a sound of pleasure; it most definitely was.

She thrust against me, driving my finger deeper. She clenched once, tightly, then pulled back.

"Am I hurting you?" I asked with concern.

She shook her head, her hair dancing about her shoulders. "No… far from it. But I want _you—"_ She paused to wrap her fingers around my rigid length to indicate precisely to which part of me she referred. Her thumb stroked over me, and I grasped. "I want you," she repeated, "inside me now."

I nodded, quite happy to obey her sultry command. The feel of her fingers around me was divine, but I knew that there was something even better. She shifted as if to lie back.

I moved my hand to keep her upright. "Yes, I want that, too. Let's stay as we are, though."

For a moment she appeared disappointed, thinking I was denying her request. Far from it: I simply had another position in mind.

"No, love," I clarified, "I just mean that we could try something different…"

She looked down then grinned at me when she understood my suggestion. She got up on her knees and positioned herself over my hips. Slowly she slid down, ensheathing me in her warmth.

I groaned at the rush of sensations. She pushed down a bit further, then she lifted her hips and lowered them again. It felt wonderful.

Even so, I forced a shred of my attention to remain pragmatic. "Darling," I rasped, "stop if it hurts…"

She nodded, her eyes dark and her lips parted. She sank down another scant inch, wincing slightly but then making a noise that reminded me of a cat's purr. I watched her face carefully to ascertain if she was feeling any discomfort. She shifted minutely, then she groaned softly and murmured, "Mmm, yes."

I leaned forward so that I could kiss and suckle her nipples, then I raised my head. There was something I wished very much to see.

"Bella, look," I said, my gaze lowering to focus upon our joining. "My God, you're so beautiful."

She tilted her head downward, seeing the connection of our bodies.

"Oh!" she gasped. Her hand touched the base of my shaft; it was all that was visible.

"So, so beautiful," I repeated. I placed my hands upon her thighs then used my fingers to gently spread her folds a little wider. The bundle of nerves at her apex bulged out, and I flicked my thumb very gently over it.

Bella cried out. I repeated the motion, and she bucked against me. To my absolute delight, one of her hands rose to her breast, her fingers rubbing over her tight nipple. It was the most erotic thing I had ever seen.

She gripped my shoulder with her other hand and began lifting and lowering herself as my thumb continued its very agreeable work I could feel her starting to clench around me, and my own muscles began to tighten. I wanted desperately to push up into her even further; but I knew it was important for Bella to control the depth and intensity of the thrusts. Still, I had to restrain myself consciously from moving.

I kept the lower half of my body motionless as she continued to bounce upon me. My eyes drank in every bit of her: Her flushed face; her full lips; her slim, elegant neck; the slender fingers at her breast; her soft belly, tightening now as the muscles began to contract; and the swollen, wet flesh encasing me. It was almost too much to process all at once. I felt my control beginning to crumble.

Bella shifted back very slightly, and my tip pressed even harder against her hidden flesh.

"Edward!" she gasped.

I increased the pressure of my thumb infinitesimally and wrapped my other hand around her hip, using the last bit of my self-control to ensure that my touch was not too firm. Bella's fingers tightened around my shoulder, and she made the most delicious noises, little gasps and oohs as her climax shook her.

I let myself go, too. I kept my thumb upon her but my hips lifted from the floor, my body jerking as a powerful orgasm crashed through me. It was even more intense than the one I had experienced the previous night.

I thrust up just once at the height of my climax. She continued to quiver around me, but after several very long seconds she sank down, and I felt myself buried even further within her. As my senses began to calm slightly, I slid my hand beneath her bottom to lift her so that I remained inside her but not as deeply.

She leaned forward to collapse against my chest. I kissed her hair and wrapped my arms around her. It took her several minutes to regain control of her breathing. I felt her heart slowing gradually, too. I stroked her hair and shoulders and let my fingers trail gently down her back.

Finally she began to shift, sliding up on her legs a little. I remained almost fully erect inside her, and I felt a little throb of despondency at the thought of losing her delectable warmth around me.

"I could stay inside you forever," I whispered.

"Mmm…" Her lovely brow wrinkled in mild confusion. "You can go again? I mean, are you ready?" She blushed prettily. "Last night, after we were finished you um, didn't seem like you could…"

"I didn't want to hurt you, darling. The knowledge that I had caused you pain diminished my excitement fairly quickly."

Her eyes widened. "Can we do it again?"

I grinned. "It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Cullen… unless you're sore?" Had my one uncontrolled thrust been too deep for her?

She shook her head, her expression earnest and eager.

I could feel Bella's body becoming prepared for me again; the thought of a second climax was arousing her. I grew even harder. My mind felt very clear, and I had regained all of my control. My release had done wonders for my mental status. I was not worried about becoming carried away now.

So, keeping myself encased in her warmth, I laid Bella back on the thick rug. I kissed her throat and the outer edges of both breasts before taking each nipple between my lips in turn and flicking my tongue over them. Both hardened fully as her scent became even sweeter; I knew her body was ready for continued pleasure.

I eased myself out of her warmth then thrust into her again very gently, delighting in the little sounds these motions made. She was extremely wet, and her swollen flesh pillowed my rigid length each time I withdrew partially. Suddenly I wanted to taste her, to know her unique flavor; scent and touch alone were not enough.

I pulled out completely, and she whimpered. I tried to apologize by giving her right nipple extra attention and slipping two fingers inside of her. Lord, she was scorching, her moisture pooling against my palm.

I kissed a trail down her belly and over each hip, moving my fingers slowly in and out of her. She was breathing heavily, her legs spread wide, toes curling slightly at the edge of the rug.

I looked up once to take in the sight of her open mouth, bright eyes, flushed skin, and taut rosy nipples. Then I lowered my head to the heavenly flesh between her thighs, running my tongue over her entire length. She tasted like honey, strawberries, nectar, wine… I swallowed the juices upon my tongue and moaned in pleasure.

Bella was moaning, too, as my fingers continued their little motions and my tongue darted out to the very sensitive bundle of nerves that once again protruded from the delicate flesh surrounding it.

Bella climaxed after only seventeen flicks of my tongue. Her walls squeezed my fingers, and before she stopped twitching I moved quickly yet gently to join our bodies again. Bending over her, I kissed her deeply. She responded with equal passion, wrapping her legs around my back, urging me closer to her.

I kept my rhythm relatively slow and did not push in as far as I could. But it was more than enough for me, and soon I felt that wonderful tightening sensation again.

"Oh God," I groaned into her mouth, "Bella…"

"I love you, Edward."

That drove me over the precipice, and my second climax of the night shuddered through me. Bella's hands stroked my shoulders and back as I gradually calmed. I was not fully sated, but my intense lust had faded, and my erection began to subside as I once again started to fret that I had been too rough or too intense with her.

I pulled out slowly, listening to her heart and breathing for any signs of pain. She appeared exhausted but not uncomfortable. She was smiling softly at me, her expression one of adoration.

I rolled onto my back and tenderly moved her onto my chest. My skin remained warm from the fire, and I wondered if she would be terribly uncomfortable sleeping before the hearth tonight. The thought of holding her in my arms, her bare body pressed over the length of mine, skin to skin, was very appealing.

We talked quietly for a little while—of nothing substantial, yet every word she spoke seemed monumental to me. After half an hour, her eyelids began to lower; she was becoming sleepy.

I hummed her lullaby, and she slipped into slumber. When she was deeply asleep, I moved away carefully to pull blankets and pillows from the bed. I arranged the pillows to cushion her shoulder and hip as I settled her over my chest again. I tucked a blanket over her then spent the rest of the night listening to the beautiful sounds of my wife's heartbeat and breathing.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	37. Chapter 37

Bella admitted to feeling somewhat stiff and sore in the morning. She blamed it on sleeping on the floor but quickly added how wonderful it had felt to wake in my warm embrace. Still, I suspected that she was sore in other, more intimate areas. Once again I prepared a bath for her after she ate breakfast.

The skies were cloudy this morning, and rain began to patter on the roof while she was still in the tub. It would not be a suitable day for walking on the beach or in the woods.

We sat on the sofa and read for the remainder of the morning as the storm worsened. We felt snug and safe in the house, though. I kept the fire hot and crackling, and we were quite content.

After Bella had lunch, we returned to the sofa. We each picked up our books, but she did not open hers. She looked at the flames then glanced at me rather shyly.

"Darling, is something wrong?" I asked.

"No… I was just wondering… well, yesterday you said I could ask you questions…"

My perfect memory provided the context of this comment immediately. A light blush crept over her cheeks, a response I found endearing. My precious wife was embarrassed to ask me about anatomy—or something related.

I slid my arm around her shoulders and pulled her to me. "Of course, love. Ask me anything you like."

"Well…" she began, still reticent.

I began to worry that I had indeed hurt her the previous night. Did she want to ask me about pain she was experiencing?

"Bella, what is it?" I pressed gently. "Are you all right?"

"Oh yes, I think so." Her eyes moved purposefully to my lap, then she looked up at me again.

"Then what would you like to know? Is it something about me?"

She nodded. "I was just wondering… well, what you did last night, with your mouth… " Her blush deepened. "It was wonderful. That spot was so… so sensitive. Is there anything similar for you?"

I realized that my lovely bride was in need of an anatomy lesson. I smiled and tenderly took her chin in my hand so that she would look at me.

"That's an excellent question, love. Let's go upstairs, and I'll show you."

She smiled and stood, but I swept her into my arms and carried her up the stairs. The next hour was spent in a very comprehensive lesson with a most cooperative student. Bella was an apt learner, quickly applying her knowledge to bring me intense pleasure in creative, novel ways. I reciprocated fully, discovering new treasures with which I could delight my wife.

As we lay sprawled upon the bed afterward, I told my gorgeous pupil that I gave her the highest marks for her fine performance.

She giggled and replied that she had a very skilled teacher. We remained in bed for the rest of the afternoon, because we both agreed that practice made perfect.

* * *

><p>The rain continued for another day, but neither Bella nor I minded. She had insisted that I hunt during our third night, so I left briefly while she slept. Our indoor activities that day had left her somewhat exhausted, a fact of which, admittedly, I was rather proud. She did not notice that I was gone. After finding a large buck and drinking hungrily, I took a quick dip in the ocean to catch some fish. I thought Bella would enjoy fresh seafood for her lunch.<p>

She proclaimed the fish delicious, and it seemed to energize her. The weather had cleared, so we took a lovely hike through the woods to discover several other beautiful, hidden coves.

On our fifth day, we decided to drive into Newport. Bella wanted to purchase a few small gifts for Esme, Angela, and baby Rosemary. The weather was cloudy again, so it was an ideal morning to visit the nearest town.

We enjoyed the views of Yaquina Bay as we strolled along the waterfront. Bella ate some sort of fish chowder for lunch, which she reported was very good. Then we visited several shops, where she found a pretty little linen bonnet for Rosemary, an attractively jaunty straw hat for Angela, and a delicate scarf lined with fine lace for Esme. She worried that the quality of the latter item would not be of the caliber to which Esme was accustomed, but I assured her that my mother would love it. I knew that Esme's gracious nature would appreciate the gesture and thus adore the gift.

As Bella stood gazing out at the bay, a little sigh escaped her.

"Is something wrong, love?" I asked.

"No, not at all. It's just so beautiful here. I love seeing the ocean and smelling the wonderful salt air. Our time has gone so quickly…"

"We can return whenever you like," I assured her.

She nodded, her eyes on the horizon. "I could never have imagined a more perfect honeymoon," she said softly.

I wrapped my arm around her, and she cuddled into me. "I love you," I whispered.

"And I love you."

I kissed her cheek, images of the passionate afternoons and nights we had spent flashing through my mind. I felt fairly sure that, like me, Bella was not quite ready to leave those behind.

"Would you like to stay another week?" I asked.

She looked up at me. "Can we? I thought Esme and Carlisle planned to come here as soon as we returned to Madras."

"I'll wire them and ask if they can wait a few more days. I don't think they'll mind."

"But doesn't Carlisle have to get back to St. Paul? How long was he able to take off?"

"Actually, darling, he took a leave of absence."

This news surprised her. "Not because of us?" She knew how much he enjoyed his work.

"No. He can only remain in a position for so long before others begin to notice that he isn't aging. In the medical profession, it's particularly obvious to one's colleagues if a physician doesn't show signs of growing older."

"What does he plan to do?"

"He'll find another hospital, perhaps in St. Louis or Detroit. I don't think he's decided yet. I know he sent out several letters of inquiry. He shouldn't have any trouble finding another position. He's a very skilled physician."

This seemed to satisfy Bella, and she walked with me excitedly toward the telegraph office, where I sent a brief wire to Madras. We sat in a small restaurant across the street where Bella drank tea and enjoyed some little cakes while we waited for a reply. Within the hour, the operator waved at us through his window.

I paid for my wife's food, then we hurried back to get the telegram. As I'd suspected, Carlisle and Esme did not mind at all if we wished to remain on the coast for another week. We celebrated the moment we returned to the house, leaving a trail of clothing along the stairs to our bedroom.

* * *

><p>The days passed quickly yet very pleasantly. We enjoyed the beaches, the woods, and, most of all, each other, in every sense of the word. Our time at the beach house was truly bliss.<p>

We spent the better part of several rainy days in bed—or on the rug before the hearth—or on the sofa in the living room. We devoted most of a sunny day to the most pleasurable of indoor pursuits, too.

I admired Bella's energy and stamina. She was quite tireless in her efforts to please me and allow me to bring satisfaction to her. Of course many hours were spent in mutual delight, too.

Two days before our departure, I noticed that Bella seemed tired. While she was never one to complain, I could tell that she was slightly achy, too. I was fairly certain that I knew what the cause was, but I did not wish to embarrass her, so I simply pampered her as much as she would permit me and made a point to be gentle with her during our more intimate moments.

On the morning of our last full day, she slept late while I began tidying up the house. I wanted to leave it in good condition for Carlisle and Esme, and there were sheets and towels to be laundered. I had just hung the linens on the clothesline outside when Bella came down the stairs.

She was a bit pale, but as soon as I stepped inside her cheeks grew pink.

"Good morning, love," I greeted, hurrying to kiss her.

"Morning," she replied. She sounded miserable.

"What's the matter, darling?" I questioned, although I already knew the answer. My keen sense of smell had alerted me to the issue the moment I had entered the house.

She sighed and dropped her head. "I'm…" Her hand moved to rest low over her abdomen. "It's just that… it's, well, it's _that_ time…I mean that _monthly_ time."

Her reticence was endearing, but I felt rather sorry that she was not comfortable being more forthcoming with me. I knew every inch of her body, and she every inch of mine. Still, my time as a physician had taught me that this was a delicate subject for women.

"Are you terribly uncomfortable?" I asked, wrapping my arms around her and rubbing softly at the small of her back.

"No, not really," she replied.

"Then what is it, love? Please don't feel embarrassed. This is a perfectly natural occurrence for a healthy young woman."

Her blush deepened. I kissed her hot cheek in an attempt to assuage her mortification.

"It's not the first time this has happened since I've known you," I reminded her gently.

She looked up at me, tears forming in her eyes. "But it's the first time it's happened since we've been married—since we've been able to be_ together_."

Ah, now the crux of her consternation was clear. "We'll have many, many more years to be intimate, love. A few days is nothing."

"You don't mind?" she sniffled.

I kissed her brow. "Darling, I only mind that this is making you sad. Please don't feel badly. We've had an amazing two weeks, but they are only the beginning of what I know will be a long and joyous marriage."

I caressed her cheek then kissed her lips softly.

She gave me a tiny smile then hugged me tightly. "Thank you, Edward."

"Do you feel like some breakfast?" I asked.

"Yes, I think so," she replied. "Then I'll help you finish cleaning."

"Only if you feel like it. You know I can manage on my own quite easily."

"I know, but I want to help."

I nodded then gave her one more kiss. There were no words that could adequately express how much I loved my wonderful wife.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	38. Chapter 38

**Note:** _It seems that fanfic is sending out new chapter notices several days after the fact. I'm worried that some readers missed a recent chapter along the way. If you felt something had been skipped over, this is probably the reason. I'm sorry!  
><em>

* * *

><p>We left the lovely little beach house the next morning. Bella was feeling better, and we were both looking forward to seeing our family and friends again. The drive was long but pleasant. I had packed a picnic lunch, and we stopped in a pretty spot near a meadow to enjoy it.<p>

We arrived at our new house outside Madras just after three in the afternoon. Carlisle and Esme stood on the porch, waving as we came into view. I helped Bella from the motorcar, and we walked toward the house hand in hand. We were both grinning.

Esme dashed out to embrace Bella. Carlisle followed, giving me a firm, warm handshake then switching with Esme to hug his daughter-in-law. Esme threw her arms around me, holding me tightly for several seconds. Finally they both stepped back slightly. I did not miss Carlisle's intense gaze as his eyes moved quickly over Bella then darted over me.

"Welcome home!" Esme exclaimed. "Did you have a nice time?"

For some reason, this simple question made Bella blush. "It was lovely," she replied. "And the house is wonderful. Thank you so much for letting us stay there."

She hugged Esme again, then my mother led her away, saying that she wanted to show Bella the flowers and vegetables she had planted while we were gone. Carlisle waited a few moments until Bella was out of earshot, then he smiled at me.

"So, I take it that everything went well," he commented casually, but I could see the amused twinkle in his golden eyes.

I nodded. "It did."

"Bella is looking quite well," he continued. "Perhaps a bit tired, but I imagine you kept her rather busy."

I laughed lightly. "I did."

He clapped a hand over my back. "I knew everything would be fine," he said.

"Thank you for having such confidence in me," I responded. "I think it helped to know that you believed in me."

"Always, son."

We walked back to the car to get the bags. As we carried them back to the house, he asked, "So, what do you think of married life so far?"

"It's better than I ever could have imagined—and you know my imagination is quite vivid."

He chuckled. "I do. But I also know that your capacity for caring, compassion, and devotion is equally strong."

His praise was more than I deserved. I changed the subject as deftly as I could. "So, how is everything here? I can see that Esme did quite a bit of planting, and," I looked around me, as we were inside the house now, "she finished all the painting and decorating, too. Bella is going to love this."

Carlisle grinned. "That was the idea. She also spent a bit of time at your new office. I hope you'll like the little homey touches she left there."

"I'm sure I will. Have all of my supplies arrived?"

"Yes. The last shipment came three days ago. I've put all the boxes and crates in the office, but I thought you'd want to organize your equipment and medicines yourself. I'd be glad to help if you like."

"Thank you. I'd appreciate it. Have you spent much time in town?"

He nodded. "I checked daily for deliveries, and since Tuesday I've been going in a couple of times each day to see the Webers." A hint of concern tightened his features.

"What's the matter?" I asked immediately. "Is someone ill?"

"Rosemary has croup," he replied.

"Damn. How bad is it?"

"It's a moderate case. Angela and Ben are quite worried, but the baby is doing a little better today."

I nodded. "Thank you for helping."

"It was no trouble."

"I'll go in and see them soon."

"I know they'll appreciate that."

I had expected that Bella would want to rest after our long trip, but once she found out that Rosemary was ill, she insisted on accompanying me into town. We went directly to the store, where Ben greeted us. He appeared rather haggard; undoubtedly he'd been up for several nights with Angela and the baby.

Bella hugged him, and I shook his hand, albeit it gingerly. I felt his deep fatigue, but fortunately he appeared to have no other maladies.

"How's Rosemary?" Bella asked right away.

Ben sighed. "She's still coughing a lot. It sounds awful, but I guess it's a little better than it was yesterday. Dr. Cullen—er, your father," he addressed me, "thinks she's improved slightly."

I nodded. "He told me. Would you like me to take a look at her?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Ben replied.

He ushered us into the back. Angela was seated in the rocking chair in the parlor, the baby in her arms. I could smell the child's fever and hear the restriction in the airflow through her trachea. However, neither were serious. I knew that this illness was a frightening one for parents due to the harsh sound of the cough. Most likely Angela and Ben were as uncomfortable as Rosemary due to their anxiety and fatigue.

Angela looked up at us. She was wan, and the dark circles beneath her eyes attested to her lack of sleep. She looked worse than her husband, and I worried that she was ill, too.

"How is she doing?" I asked.

"She's still coughing a lot," Angela replied, "and she's feverish."

I nodded and held out my arms. "May I?"

She placed the infant in my arms. Rosemary was drowsy; her little eyes blinked at me, but she did not cry. I sat down on the settee to place her in my lap. I had passed my bag to Bella, who set it beside me then moved to stand behind the couch. She rested her hand gently over the back of my neck.

I unwrapped Rosemary from her blanket and felt her forehead and cheeks. My cool touch did not appear to upset her. She probably felt some relief from it. Her fever was not dangerously high, but it would still leave her with some discomfort. I took my stethoscope from my bag and spent a few moments listening to her airways. The unnecessary action would ease her parents' worries when I reported my findings to them.

"How is her appetite?" I asked as I lifted her tiny nightdress to check for any rashes or other symptoms. Her skin was soft and smooth with no abnormalities aside from the light flush of fever. I probed her abdomen and neck softly with my fingertips to check for any irregularities in the lymph nodes, although Carlisle had reported the results of his most recent examination to me.

"She's not eating as much as she usually does," Angela said, "but she has been nursing fairly regularly."

I nodded and tucked the blanket around the baby again. I looked up with a reassuring smile. "Based on what Carlisle told me, her breathing has improved, and her fever is lower, too. I don't see any new symptoms, either. I think she's going to be just fine."

"Dr. Cullen told us to have her breathe in steam," Ben said. "Should we keep doing that?"

"Yes. It eases the breathing passages and calms the cough. You've been doing that every hour or so?"

Angela nodded.

"Good," I complimented. "Continue through the night if you can, then tomorrow we'll try cutting back to every two to three hours."

I brushed a few strands of downy hair away from Rosemary's tiny forehead then stood to return her to her mother's arms.

"How are you doing?" I asked her.

"I'm all right…"

"Ange," Ben said, "you've got to start getting some sleep." To me, he added, "She's been up for the last two nights."

"So have you," Angela protested weakly.

"But I've slept a few hours here and there. And you've got to eat, too, honey."

"Have you been feeling nauseated?" I asked.

"No. I've just been so worried…"

I glanced quickly at Bella. She had already moved to stand beside me. Now she slipped her hand into mine.

I pressed my other hand over Angela's cheek. She was warm; she had a low-grade fever. I listened to her breathing, relieved that she did not appear to have any respiratory issues. Most likely she was simply exhausted. Still, I felt some mild concern. I would monitor her closely for the next day or two.

"Angela," I said kindly, "you're going to become ill if you don't get some rest. It's important for you to stay healthy so that you can continue to nurse Rosemary. I'd like to ask Ben's mother to come and stay for a few hours tonight so that you can sleep."

"She's away," Ben said rather despondently.

"Then I'll stay," Bella said immediately.

"But you just got back," Angela said. "I can't ask you to do that."

"You aren't asking me," she said. "I'm offering."

"I'll stay, too," I added. "We'll take care of Rosemary so you two can both get a good night's sleep."

"I don't think I can," Angela began.

"I know you're worried," I replied gently, "but you really must rest. I'll give you some medicine to help."

"Thank you," Ben said softly. "Not a very good way to welcome you back from your honeymoon, though. I hope it was good?"

"It was wonderful," Bella said.

We returned to the house so that Bella and I could get a few items we might need during the night. Well, there was nothing I required, but for appearances sake would I put a shirt, comb, and shaving supplies into the valise.

The moment Esme heard our plan, she shook her head and said, "Absolutely not! This is your first night in your new home, and you should be here, enjoying it together."

"But Angela and Ben need help," Bella replied, looking at me for support.

I knew how determined my mother could be when romance was involved. I was not sure that I could dissuade her. Besides, I could tell from the set of her beautiful mouth that she had a plan.

"They do," she agreed lightly. "And who better to provide it than the world's most experienced physician and his wife, both of whom require no sleep?"

"Oh Esme, we couldn't—" Bella started to object.

Esme waggled a slender finger at her daughter-in-law. "Yes you can. We insist."

Carlisle's half smile showed me that he was glad to acquiescence to his wife's request.

I kissed Esme's cheek. "Thank you."

"It's our pleasure," she replied, then she bustled off to pack her own bag. She had become rather adept at the human façade, it seemed.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Bella asked Carlisle.

He placed his hands upon her shoulders. "Not in the least. Esme adores Rosemary. The chance to take care of her for a night will thrill her. It's been a long time since she cared for an infant…" Sadness crossed his handsome features, his eyes darkening for a moment. "Really, dear, this will be good for her. And I'll see that Angela rests."

"Thank you." Bella hugged Carlisle.

"You're welcome." He drew back to lift her chin lightly. "Hmm. I think you could use a good night's sleep, too." He gave me a significant glance.

"I'll put her to bed early," I promised.

"To sleep," he murmured, too low for her to hear. He knew precisely what we had been up to during our honeymoon.

Esme's eyes sparkled with excitement as she and Carlisle left in the motorcar. Bella and I waved from the porch then went inside. A fire crackled in the hearth, so we settled on the sofa to enjoy the warmth.

I had told Bella a bit about Esme's past, but she remained curious.

"She had a child of her own once, didn't she?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yes, a son. He died in infancy, and she became very depressed. Eventually her grief overwhelmed her…"

Bella's fingers gripped lightly at my shirt. "And Carlisle found her just before she…well, right at the end."

"He saved her," I confirmed.

"She'll be all right with Rosemary? It won't bring back painful memories?"

"I don't think so, love. Esme adores taking care of others. I think having the chance to do that will leave her very happy." I kissed her gently. "By the way, thank you for helping me examine Rosemary and Angela. You knew exactly when I needed you."

She nodded. "I guess I did. I didn't even really think about it."

I kissed her again, tenderness overriding passion. "It seems that we are rather well in sync, Mrs. Cullen."

"Mmm, I think we are, Dr. Cullen."

"I dare say we're just about perfect together."

"Just about?" she repeated with a feigned pout.

I chuckled and amended, "Absolutely perfect."

* * *

><p>I spent the next day in town, first stopping in to see the Webers. Carlisle assured me that Rosemary was improving. With the help of a mild soporific, Angela had slept for eight hours and appeared rested and well, too.<p>

Esme was beaming as she passed the baby to me. I could tell that she had thoroughly enjoyed herself throughout the night. Rosemary was freshly diapered and smelled of mild soap.

"I bathed her just after five this morning," Esme told me. "Carlisle said it was all right as long as she didn't become chilled. I made the sure the water was very warm, and I heated the towels, too—"

I smiled. "She seems much better, I'm sure in part due to your excellent care."

"Thank you, Edward," she replied, slightly embarrassment by the compliment.

After pretending to drink a cup of coffee with Ben, Carlisle and I walked down the street to my new office. Bella had been asleep when I left, so I had placed a note upon the pillow beside her to inform her of my whereabouts. I was sure she would join me once she was ready to face the day. Esme returned to the house to make breakfast for my wife, undoubtedly hoping to hear some additional details about our honeymoon.

The exterior of my office had been sanded and painted white. It appeared clean and tidy, just as I had wished. I nodded in approval as I studied it for a few moments before stepping inside.

Immediately a grin spread over my face. Boxes and crates were stacked neatly throughout the space, but I could still see the newly constructed walls. Now the formerly spacious single room was separated into a small waiting area, an examination room/surgery, and a consulting room which would hold my desk, bookshelves, and a bed where I could monitor a patient's recovery if I needed to. There was also a lavatory with indoor plumbing.

I walked through the building, immensely pleased with the remodeling. It was just how I had envisioned it. Esme had painted each room a different color. All were soft and soothing. The waiting room was pale blue, while the surgery was ecru; pure white would feel too stark. The light yellow walls of my consulting room added a touch of cheer. The desk, bookshelves, bed, and chairs were already set up, but Carlisle told me that Esme realized I would likely prefer my own arrangement. In fact, I felt hers was perfect and told Carlisle that I would not change a thing.

Esme had placed rugs in the waiting area and consultation room. Several attractive paintings hung on the walls, each in the Impressionist style that I knew she favored. A delicate "EC" swirled lightly through the strokes at the bottom of the canvasses.

"Did Esme paint these?" I asked.

Carlisle nodded. "She did. As soon as she heard that you planned to start a practice, she began painting."

"They're lovely—very calming."

"They are. She'll be pleased to hear that you like them. She wanted me to tell you that you can take them down if they aren't to your taste."

"They're perfect."

"She did one more thing for you," he said, walking to a small closet and removing an item from inside.

It was covered by a folded sheet, so I could only see the general dimensions. It was about two feet long and one foot tall, and it appeared rather flat. Carlisle handed it to me, and I unwrapped it.

"Oh! This is wonderful!" I exclaimed, admiring my new shingle.

_Edward Cullen, M.D._

_Medicine and Surgery_

The words were etched into the light oak sign, which had been smoothed and polished meticulously. Esme had painted the letters in a deep bronze shade which had an elegant yet warm look.

Carlisle was beaming, proud of his wife's work. "So I supposed it's official now… you've opened your own practice." Suddenly I realized that his pride extended beyond Esme's efforts.

I gave him a crooked smile as I swept my hand across the room. "Not until I get all of this organized and put away."

He chuckled amiably. "Then let's get to work!"

* * *

><p>Bella came through the door two hours later. Her eyes widened at she studied the results of Carlisle's and my toil. We had unpacked all of the boxes and crates and had gotten many of the items put away. The waiting room looked clean yet cozy with its light blue walls and polished wooden seats with beige cushions.<p>

"Edward, this is wonderful!" she cried.

"Esme had a hand in the decorating," I told her.

She nodded as she walked toward the examination room. Her eyes moved over the cabinets, the examination table, and the few pieces of equipment yet to be put away.

"Very professional," she proclaimed. Then, with a little grin, she said, "But I think I prefer to be treated at home. Your bedside manner is superb there."

She did not realize that Carlisle was in the consulting room until she heard his chuckle. She blushed furiously. He came out to greet her, his innate warmth and cheer alleviating her embarrassment almost instantly.

We waited until Esme arrived to hang the sign. She was packing; she and Carlisle planned to leave for the coast in the morning. She, Bella, and Carlisle stood watching as I climbed up on a chair and attached the short chains to the hooks above my doorway. Then I hopped down, and we all admired my mother's work.

"Thank you," I told her, kissing her cheek.

"I'm so glad you like it," she replied.

"I love it. You've made this perfect for me."

By the end of the day, the office was ready to open. I had noticed several townspeople pause by the door as they strolled past. I greeted each with a smile and a wave. I hoped they would grow to trust me. I knew the Webers and Mrs. Withers had put in a number of good words for me, but even so my apparent youth might be off-putting to some.

* * *

><p>We all returned to the house for Bella's supper, then we visited until it was quite late and my beautiful wife was beginning to yawn. Carlisle and Esme hugged her good-bye, since they planned to depart before dawn. They would stop in briefly before returning to Minneapolis next week.<p>

Once Bella had fallen asleep, I went back downstairs to sit with my parents.

"Edward," Carlisle said without preamble, "we're very proud of you."

I nodded. "Thank you."

But it seemed that my father had more he wished to say. "You're married and are an excellent husband—caring, gentle, respectful, and loving."

Esme smiled her agreement. "We are so happy for you, darling, and for Bella, too."

Carlisle lifted her hand to kiss it then continued, "And you are about to begin practicing medicine again. Through a miracle that I do not fully comprehend, you have been given a most extraordinary gift through Bella."

"I fell in love with her before I knew she possessed it," I said. "I would love her no less without it."

"I know that, son. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry that I doubted you. I should have trusted you and known you would love Bella unconditionally and irrevocably."

"You had reason to doubt me," I reminded him. Shaking my head regretfully, I added, "When I think about what you went through—both of you—after my breakdown, I can't even begin to express my gratitude to you. You stayed with me, comforted me, guided me back to reality, back to my senses, and ultimately, to here. Without the two of you, I cannot imagine what I would be today."

"We only want you to be happy," Esme said. I knew her eyes would be filled with tears if she were able to produce them.

"And I am," I assured her. "Totally and completely."

"We wish you many, many years of bliss," Carlisle said, embracing me.

"Thank you." There were really no other words to say.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	39. Chapter 39

The next morning, Bella accompanied me to town. We hung the "open" sign upon my office door then busied ourselves with various tasks, wondering if any patients would venture in today.

Bella prepared files for me, neatly labeling each with spaces for names and birthdates. I organized the books in my consulting room and went through my supplies again, even though I knew the location of each precisely.

Our first patient was Mrs. Withers. She walked through the door just after ten o'clock. I thought initially that it was a social call, certainly welcome any time. She had wished to keep her heart condition private, and I had been quite discreet in my professional visits to her.

Today, however, she bustled in, greeting Bella and me and asking if I was "open for business."

I smiled and assured her that I was. I wondered if another of her grandchildren had been hurt or was ill…

"Good," she said. "I've been feeling a little under the weather, Dr. Cullen."

I noticed that she had not closed the door behind her. Two women passed by. I recognized one as the proprietress of the rooming house; the other lived on a farm outside of town. I grinned when I realized what Mrs. Withers was doing. She, a respected and trusted member of the community, was showing the townspeople that she had confidence in me. Her gesture would go a long way toward engendering similar confidence in others.

I nodded and asked her to step back to the examination room. Bella and I had agreed that she would remain near me at all times when I was with patients unless it was clear that no direct physical contact would be required. My clever wife had even suggested that she make a small slit in the back of each of my shirts so that she could place her fingertips against my skin as unobtrusively as possible.

Mrs. Withers eyed the examination table somewhat warily. I smiled at her and motioned to the chair in the corner of the room. She sank down with a small sigh.

"So," I said, worried now that she truly did require my professional services, "you're feeling ill?"

She waved a hand at me. "No worse than usual. But I thought maybe you had a tonic you could give me to perk me up a bit."

"Tonics really aren't very useful," I replied. "Typically they're made with ingredients that provide a little quick energy but do nothing for one's overall health. Now this," I reached for a bottle of digitalis, which she easily recognized, "really will help you, Mrs. Withers. I'll pour some into a smaller bottle, since you'll need a refill fairly soon."

She nodded. "So, Bella, are you helping out?" she asked while I prepared the medicine.

"Yes. I'm going to assist Edward with the files, and I also want to learn more about medicine. I may want to become a nurse one day…" We had agreed on this story if patients wondered why she was in the room with us.

Mrs. Withers clicked her tongue. "I don't see how you'd have time for that once the little ones come along."

Bella blushed. "Um… "

"It's all right, dear," Mrs. Withers replied with a chuckle. "You enjoy this time with your husband while you can." She gave me a knowing wink. If only she knew the truth…

"Here you go," I said, handing her the smaller bottle.

"Thank you," she replied, standing.

"How are your grandsons?" I asked. "Is Richey's arm bothering him at all?"

"I don't think so, but I'll bring him over to see you next time he's in town."

"I'd appreciate that." I gave Bella a quick glance, and she slid her fingers into my shirt to touch my back. I took Mrs. Withers' hand. "Thank you for stopping by."

"My pleasure, Dr. Cullen. I'm glad you're here."

She left Bella and me with smiles on our faces.

Angela brought Rosemary to the office during the afternoon. I had checked on the baby first thing in the morning at the store, so I knew she was doing much better. Angela's visit was primarily a social one. She seemed impressed with the office and told me what a comfort it was to know that there was now a doctor in town.

Aside from Mrs. Withers' and Angela's visits, the office was quiet. But I felt encouraged that quite a few townspeople strolled past, and several smiled and even waved when they saw Bella and me through the window.

* * *

><p>We locked up just after five o'clock then went home. We celebrated our first night alone in our new house with affectionate kisses, caresses, and a rather remarkable hour in our bedroom. Our lovemaking was tender, calm, and unhurried. I savored Bella's soft skin and glorious scent. I adored that she smelled of me now. Our closeness seemed to leave a permanent trace of my scent upon her. I found it enormously enticing.<p>

Despite our slow pace, or perhaps because of it, eventual release was imminent. When our bodies finally joined, we both gasped and shuddered at the intensity of it. For a few moments I thought Bella was in pain. Her gasp turned into a moan as she clenched violently around me, panting through the crescendo.

When my own breathing had slowed, I stroked the hair from her face and asked, "Are you all right, love?"

She nodded and gave me a small smile. "Yes. That was just… goodness, it felt so powerful. I think you had me really worked up."

I nuzzled her breasts. "Mmm. That's what waiting four days will do, I suppose. We shouldn't have let such a long time go by."

She sighed. "Edward, you know I was…" I could feel the heat of her skin as she blushed. "Well, I wasn't in a fit state."

I kissed the soft valley between her breasts. "You are always in a fit state," I replied. "I never want to make you feel uncomfortable, but darling I will worship your body at _any_ time."

To prove my point, I began caressing her, and soon we were entwined again, bodies and hearts as one.

* * *

><p>The next day brought two patients. Shortly after we unlocked the door, there was a hesitant knock. Bella opened the door to admit the stable boy, Andy. She greeted him warmly, and I stepped up to shake his hand. She had already slipped her fingers inside my shirt.<p>

"It's good to see you," I said. My keen senses had immediately alerted me that he had a wound. I could smell dried blood, and his heart rate and respiration told me that he was in some discomfort. "What can I do for you, Andy?"

"I got this bite," he began. "Happened two nights ago. There's this stray dog comes around the stable sometimes. I give him a little cheese or meat from my dinner whenever I see him. He's a good dog—friendly and nice. But the other night one of the horses spooked him and he snapped at me. He didn't mean to hurt me, but he got my arm kinda bad." He shrugged, seeming somewhat embarrassed. "I dunno if you can help…"

"Of course I can," I said immediately. "Come this way."

I ushered him to the examination room, where he perched nervously on the edge of the table. He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a soiled bandage, which I removed to expose the wound. Amid the swollen tissue, I could see four puncture marks. The area was red and hot; it had abscessed. Fortunately I smelled none of the distinctive odor left by rabies infection. The wound would require treatment, but he would not suffer any permanent damage.

Bella stood behind me. I could hear her heart speeding up as she glimpsed the injury. From her own experience, I was sure she had a fairly accurate idea of what the treatment would involve.

"I'll need to lance and drain this," I told my patient. "It's good you came in today. It would have been much worse if you had waited."

I glanced at Bella, who gave me a nod of encouragement. I asked her to help Andy remove his shirt and lie back while I prepared the supplies I would need. When I was ready, Bella moved behind me again, and I set to work.

I felt her skin temperature drop when the scent of blood filled the small room. Her fingers grew clammy quickly, and her breaths came in little pants as she tried to inhale shallowly. I completed my task as swiftly as I dared, cleaning then bandaging the wound lightly before instructing Andy to apply a warm compress every few hours.

"Please stop by tomorrow so that I can check it," I finished as he got up.

Bella excused herself and hurried from the room. I walked Andy to the door—refusing his offer of payment—then rushed to find my wife. She was in the office, sitting on the bed with her head in her hands.

"Darling, are you all right?" I asked. I sat beside her, resting my fingers over her wrist to feel her pulse.

She took several breaths then nodded. "I'm fine. It only bothered me a little…"

"I was afraid you were going to be ill," I confessed.

She shook her head. "I don't think that will happen."

I kissed her cheek softly. "I hope not."

"Will Andy be all right?"

"He should be."

"I'm glad. He's a nice boy."

"Yes, he is."

Her color was almost back to normal, and she was breathing steadily. Still, I placed my palm over the back of her neck, knowing she found the coolness of my skin soothing.

Was I asking too much of her? I knew her reaction to blood. She believed that eventually she would become inured, but what if that were not the case?

"Edward?" Her soft voice drew me from my musings. "What's the matter? You look worried."

I shook my head. "No, love…"

My beautiful wife understood me quite well, however. "Please don't fret about me," she said. "I really am fine. The blood only bothered me a little—less than it used to."

"I'm glad. But you must tell if ever that's not the case."

"I will."

I was not sure she was being entirely truthful. She was very determined to help me, even at the expense of harming herself. I hoped that I had not been too hasty in my new professional venture. I determined that I would watch Bella carefully for the next several weeks. If she was not truly becoming accustomed to the smell of blood, I would rethink my decision to practice medicine again.

* * *

><p>Angela returned at noon, bringing a basket with lunch for Bella and me. I thanked her and took a piece of chicken and square of cornbread into my office, explaining that I needed to consult a text. Angela and Bella sat in the waiting area, chatting and eating. It seemed that Bella had recovered fully from her exposure to Andy's blood; Angela laughed and commented that she must have really enjoyed the chicken, since she had eaten three pieces. I felt quite relieved to know that there were no lingering effects from her earlier experience.<p>

Naturally Bella apologized, and their conversation turned to Ben, who was watching Rosemary at the store. Angela told her friend that he was considering purchasing an automobile; he was quite enthralled with ours. I grinned, imagining his expression when I offered to teach him to drive.

About half an hour after Angela left, a woman I did not recognize came in with a small boy of about four. At first glance I wondered if she was the one seeking my professional assistance; she was about five months pregnant. However, I could discern nothing amiss with her or the fetus; both had strong heartbeats. I realized quickly that her son would be my patient today. The child was feverish and coughing harshly. I suspected that, like Rosemary, he had developed croup, most likely from the same respiratory infection the baby had contracted.

Bella and I greeted our visitors and found that their names were Jane and Joshua McMahon. Mrs. McMahon and her husband had a farm outside of town, a mile east of Bella's and my home. She had come into town to purchase cough medicine at the store, where Angela had suggested that she bring the boy to me, explaining that I had helped her and Rosemary.

A relatively brief examination confirmed my initial diagnosis. I gave Mrs. McMahon instructions for the boy's care and told her to send for me if he did not begin to improve within two days or if he grew any worse. She appeared somewhat anxious, rubbing her hands together repeatedly.

I made a polite yet professional inquiry about her general health, to which she replied that she felt fine. However, her heart beat quickened as she glanced down at the small bag she carried then asked how much she owed me.

I realized that I had not considered this issue on more than a cursory level. Between the money from my parents' estate and the funds Carlisle had generously shared with me, I had no need for any income. However, I understood that patients would expect to compensate me in some way. Providing my services for free could eventually raise questions that might develop into larger suspicions about the new, young, pale physician.

Mrs. McMahon's and Joshua's clothes were clean but quite worn, the boy's trousers stitched and patched in several places. They were not a wealthy family; she was worried about my fees.

Bella was considering the question, too. After a moment's pause, she replied, "Do you raise chickens?"

Mrs. McMahon nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Could you spare a basket of eggs?"

The woman's worried expression changed to one of relief, and she smiled. "Yes, of course. I can bring them tomorrow—or later today if you like."

"Tomorrow will be just fine," I said. "Or the next day, if you aren't able to get into town."

"Paul has to come in tomorrow—that's my husband. I'll send them with him."

"That sounds fine," Bella responded.

"And remember," I added, placing my hand on Joshua's head, "don't hesitate to send for me if he's not feeling better by tomorrow evening." I looked up at his mother, adding, "You take care of yourself, too."

"Thank you, Doctor." Mrs. McMahon left with a smile.

I gathered my wife into my arms and kissed her. "You are wonderful," I told her.

She kissed me back. "You are, too."

The afternoon wound down without any additional visitors. But we both felt satisfied with the day's work.

* * *

><p>The rest of the week passed relatively uneventfully. Each day brought two or three patients, among them Andy, whose wound was beginning to heal. I also treated a case of bronchitis and set a broken ankle. Bella's presence was particularly helpful with the latter, as the farmer was in considerable pain.<p>

There were two more instances in which blood was involved. On Thursday, Reverend Joseph's wife cut her hand badly when a canning jar broke. She required sutures to close the deep laceration. Bella stood behind me as I cleaned and sutured the wound. She seemed slightly less affected by the blood than she had been when I treated Andy. We had left the window open to let in the fresh air, and this seemed to help.

Friday brought us Mrs. Withers' youngest grandson, a three-year-old who had decided to see how many dried beans would fit inside his left nostril. In his enthusiasm to complete the experiment, he had managed to cause some damage to his sinus cavity. I worked carefully to remove the rehydrated legumes, but several delicate blood vessels ruptured, causing a surge of blood to flow from the child's nose.

Bella had been holding the little boy's hand while his mother kept his head from moving. My brave wife managed to pass me gauze and hold it in place while I prepared a sedative for the boy, who began to thrash when the bleeding started. Bella remained in the room, pale but relatively steady, throughout the entire procedure. Afterwards she told me that she had only felt a little nauseated and dizzy. She felt certain she was doing better.

Still, it seemed to take a toll on her. While she was very determined that she would help me, I believed that the stress of uncertainty gnawed at her. She did not express her worries or doubts verbally, but her body belied her. She was tired, sleeping very soundly each night and rousing groggily when I woke her in the morning.

Even so, she was energetic and enthusiastic in our other bedroom activities. Every night brought new delights as we continued to learn each other's bodies. I was fascinated by the seemingly infinite variations in ways to bring my wife pleasure, and she shared my love of learning, trying many pleasing things that often left me gasping and panting. Her creativity was admirable. I suppose mine was, as well. We were both rapt scholars when it came to studying methods for expressing our love.

* * *

><p>We had decided that we would open the office for limited hours on Saturdays and close on Sundays unless an emergency arose. Bella slept quite late on Sunday morning, finally rising just before ten o'clock. She appeared well-rested and relaxed, possibly in part due to the stress relief I had provided her the night before. I grinned at her tousled hair as she sat up in bed and stretched. She winced and pressed her hands over her lower back. She had spent a considerable amount of time with her knees pressed back nearly to her shoulders the previous night, enjoying the position at the time. However, it had left her muscles sore.<p>

I apologized and promised I would be more mindful of her body's contortions in the future.

She waggled a finger at me. "Don't you dare! That felt wonderful—both times."

I kissed her neck and shoulder as she climbed into my lap. My hands moved to her back to rub gently over the strained muscles. "Well, perhaps we should refrain from that particular posture for a few days." I lowered my head to kiss the top of each breast as my fingers continued to knead at her soft flesh. "I'm sure we can think of some other equally enjoyable ways to accomplish our goals."

"Mmm," she murmured throatily as my mouth moved lower to the little pink peak beckoning me. "I can think of one right now."

She shifted and lifted her hips. I groaned. "My God, Bella… yes, that works just fine."

"Mmm hmm," she agreed, and then we stopped talking, our lips occupied by even more pleasant pursuits.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	40. Chapter 40

Ben had been delighted when I offered to teach him to drive the motorcar. We decided that we would begin our lessons after lunch on Sunday. Bella and I drove to town, then Ben joined me in the automobile while our wives settled into a sewing session at the store.

Ben was a fast learner. He had an excellent facility for mechanics and demonstrated strong visual-motor skills. After a few hours, he was driving quite well. We returned to the store, where he happily shared his experience with Angela. She beamed at him, proud that he could accomplish this new task so easily.

I took him out driving several more times during the next week, and soon I felt he was as competent as I was. I told him that he was welcome to borrow the automobile whenever he liked, perhaps to take Angela and the baby on a longer drive on Saturday or Sunday. He was thrilled with the idea and grateful for my trust in him.

* * *

><p>On Tuesday evening, Carlisle and Esme returned from the coast. They had enjoyed five days at the beach house but had made a detour on the way back to Madras. The last three days had been spent in Eugene.<p>

Esme was smiling, and Carlisle's eyes twinkled as he told Bella and me, "I made an inquiry at the hospital in Eugene…It just happens that they are looking for a qualified surgeon. The position is mind if I want it."

"Oh!" Bella exclaimed. "What did you tell them?"

"That I would let them know within a few days," he replied.

Esme slipped her hand into his. "We adore the coast and want to spend more time there. And it would be lovely to be close enough that we could see you on a regular basis…"

"That would be wonderful," Bella agreed.

I nodded. "It would."

"You wouldn't mind our moving to Oregon?" Carlisle asked rather carefully.

"Mind?" Bella repeated. "Gracious, no! I can't think of anything we'd like more."

"Edward?" Carlisle questioned, his gaze deep and probing.

I had missed him and Esme, and the thought of seeing them only once or twice per year had left me a bit forlorn. A grin spread over my face. "Of course, Carlisle. We'd love it if you lived in Oregon."

"Are you certain?" he asked. "We don't want you to feel that we're interfering or disrupting your privacy."

I shook my head. "Never."

Esme laughed delightedly and hugged both Bella and me. Carlisle's embrace was next. He told us that he would give his final notice at the hospital in St. Paul, then he anticipated that it would take a few weeks for him and Esme to pack up the house and arrange to have their things moved.

Esme confessed that they had found a lovely home about three miles outside of Eugene that was available. Carlisle would wire the funds for purchase as soon as they returned to Minnesota. With luck, my parents would become residents of Oregon within the span of a month.

Carlisle took me aside before they left. "How are you and Bella doing?" he asked seriously.

"We're fine—excellent, really," I replied, slightly bemused. Could he not see how happy we were together?

He smiled. "I can see that… I was referring to the practice."

"Oh. It's going well. We have a handful of patients, and I think word is gradually spreading as people come to trust me."

"I'm glad to hear it." His grin faded. "Are you feeling all right, son?"

Ah, he was worried about my mental state as I began treating patients more regularly.

"I'm well," I replied honestly. "I've treated a variety of illnesses and injuries, and my mind still feels clear and calm. Just this afternoon we had a patient who was thrown from his horse and sustained a dislocated shoulder, fractured radius, and several facial lacerations. But Bella stayed with me as I worked on him, just as she has with each patient. She's prevented me from feeling any pain or discomfort."

"But she is still having trouble with the blood," he commented.

"It's a struggle for her, but she's getting better."

"Are you certain, son? She looked a little pale when we first arrived."

"It had been less than an hour since we saw our last patient…" I frowned. "But I thought she was all right." Now I worried that I was not paying close enough attention to my wife's physical state.

"Her color is fine now," he reassured me, watching her through the window as she laughed with Esme.

"Even so, I need to watch her more carefully. She's so resolute in her desire to help me—I know she isn't always honest about how she's feeling."

"She's a very strong young woman, Edward. But even most new physicians require time to acclimate to the sight of blood. This is all quite new for her."

I nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

He smiled gently and placed an affectionate hand upon my shoulder. "If ever you need me, I will be only a few hours away."

At my quizzical look, he continued, his voice infinitely kind. "Should there ever be a time when you require another set of hands, you only have to send for me."

Now I understood at least part of his impetus for relocating to Oregon. If I was unable to manage a patient—if Bella could not assist me—he would come to my aid. In an emergency, he could reach Madras from Eugene in just over an hour's time. I was touched by his offer, knowing it showed his devotion to both Bella and me.

"Thank you," I replied. "I will keep that in mind; it's a comfort to me."

We embraced again, and then it was time for him and Esme to depart. Bella and I settled on the sofa after they left. I took her face in my hands, studying her closely for a few moments.

"Edward?" she questioned. "Is something wrong?"

"No, love. I just wanted to be sure you're feeling all right. Carlisle thought you were a little pale."

"I'm sorry," she began.

"Don't apologize, darling. I want you to be honest with me. I know how difficult it is to see people who are suffering, and it's even more so for you. Please don't try to hide your reactions from me."

"I _am _getting better," she insisted. "The blood really doesn't bother me as much as it did even a few weeks ago."

I nodded. "I can see that, and I know how hard you're trying."

She sighed. "Today was a little harder than some… Mr. Tolleson was in so much pain, and I was really worried that I wouldn't be able to block it all for you."

"Oh Bella!" I exclaimed, realizing I had completely misunderstood the source of her stress. "Sweetheart, please don't worry about that. You're doing a marvelous job—a flawless job—of that. I don't feel any discomfort at all when you're touching me."

"Are you certain?" She swallowed, and her skin grew pale again. "Because sometimes I worry that _you_ aren't being honest with _me_."

"What do you mean, love?" I stroked her cheek with my thumb hoping to calm her.

"I'm afraid that if you begin to feel something you won't tell me… that you'll keep working, and it will affect you and you'll become ill again." Tears began to fill her eyes. "I don't want you to suffer, Edward."

I drew her into my arms and held her, running my hand over her back. "Sshh, please don't cry, darling. I'm fine. Truly I am. I promise that I will tell you immediately if I ever feel even a glimmer of pain."

She looked up at me through teary eyes. "You will?"

"Yes, I will."

I kissed the tears upon her cheeks then kissed her beautiful mouth. Soon we had moved to the rug before the hearth, where I kissed away all traces of her anxiety on every inch of her skin before the warm glow of the fire.

* * *

><p>Ben proposed an excursion to Bend the second Saturday after my parents' brief visit. He was now a skilled driver, and I had no reservations about him taking the motorcar on a long drive. He suggested that Bella and I accompany him and Angela. Mrs. Weber would watch the baby, providing the couple with their first opportunity to spend some time without their daughter.<p>

Bella loved the idea, but I was hesitant. It was the middle of May, and the days were becoming warm and sunny. I expressed my reservations to my wife, immediately seeing the disappointment that washed over her. Of course she instantly regretted it, realizing that I had no control over the weather or over my hesitation to be seen in the sunlight.

"I'm sure Angela and Ben would be glad for you to go along regardless," I said. "I'll tell them I have a patient to see."

"They'd probably rather have some time alone…" she replied, biting her lip.

"They adore you," I assured her.

"I wouldn't want to impose."

"Bella, it's our automobile. It's not an imposition. Besides, you deserve to buy yourself something new—perhaps a hat or blouse? Or maybe a negligee?" I grinned mischievously. "Mmm, I like that idea."

She giggled. "Well, I'll ask… There is something I'd like to look for at the shops in Bend."

Of course our friends were happy to have Bella's charming company during their drive. They were disappointed that I would not be able to join them, but they understood when I explained that I was concerned about a patient.

Bella and I drove to the store on Saturday, just before noon. Ben's mother would watch the store while the couple was away, and Mrs. Withers had Rosemary. It was a fine day for a drive, and everyone seemed excited at the prospect of the excursion. Somewhat reluctantly, I kissed my lovely wife good-bye. I wished them all a good trip, waving from the shelter of the awning as they drove away.

I decided to spend the day at the office, though I kept the door locked and remained in the back room. I wanted to review several texts and articles on anaesthetic. After the experience with Mrs. Withers' grandson, I needed to be certain that I could anaesthetize patients safely and quickly if a sudden need arose.

Despite my interest in the subject matter, the afternoon passed slowly. I missed Bella's presence: her soft laugh, her gentle touches, her warm skin and delicious fragrance… I found my mind wandering to the many times I had run my fingers over her, kissed her, cuddled her, loved her.

As the day wore on, I became increasingly restless. This was the first time we had been apart for more than a few minutes since the evening we were wed. Perhaps it was this realization that fueling my growing anxiousness. A vague sense of dread was settling in my stomach, and I felt anxious to see my wife again.

* * *

><p>I was not expecting the Webers to return until after nightfall. The drive to Bend took over an hour even at the motorcar's top speed, and I knew the small group would want some time to shop and dine. So when I heard the distinctive rumble of the engine approaching town shortly after four o'clock, a small thrill of excitement ran through me. My Bella was back; she would be in my arms again within minutes. Over four hours apart was entirely too long to be without her.<p>

I hastened from the office, watching as the automobile entered town. I resisted the urge to dash forward and settled instead for permitting a pleased grin to spread over my face. I lifted my arm to wave as the vehicle neared. And then my body froze as fear shuddered through me.

Ben was alone in the motorcar, and his expression was one of deep distress. He was pale, his hands trembling slightly as they gripped the steering wheel. His driving bordered on erratic as he pushed the automobile to its limits.

Immediately I knew that my apprehension had been warranted. Something had happened, something that left him shaken and fearful. I wanted to run, to use every ounce of my preternatural speed to reach Ben in a moment and determine what had occurred and why Bella and Angela were not with him. But my legs felt frozen as fear flowed through me.

Ben pulled the car up to the office but made no move to get out.

"Edward," he said breathlessly. His heart was racing. He clutched the wheel so hard that his knuckles were white.

"Ben. What's wrong?" My voice sounded foreign and strained to my ears.

"Something's happened…"

"What?"

"It's Bella…"

I swallowed and forced myself to take a breath. "Where is she?"

"She's at your house. We thought you'd be there when we got back, but when we found you weren't Angela thought they should stay. I said I'd find you and bring you back as soon as I could…"

"Ben," I interjected, unclenching my teeth, "what the hell happened?"

His eyes flicked down for a moment, then he said, "You should get your bag."

Oh God. Bella was hurt. Without a word I dashed back inside the office and grabbed my black bag. I was at the motorcar again in a few long strides, climbing into the seat beside Ben even as he began to pull the vehicle away.

"Tell me," I said, my voice hollow.

Ben turned the vehicle around sharply, tires squealing and dust exploding around us. He inhaled harshly then said, "We'd only been in Bend a little while. We'd just had lunch when Angela saw a bakery with really nice goods in the window, and she thought maybe we could contract with them to prepare some items for us to sell at the store—"

My hands closed around the seat, fingers slicing through the leather as I suppressed my urge to clutch at Ben's shoulders and shake the story from him. Abruptly, I cried, "For God's sake, man, what happened to Bella?"

He drew a sharp breath then spoke again. "She said she wanted to go to a book store. She'd noticed it as we were pulling into town. It was about five blocks away. She told us she'd meet us at the bakery, but by the time we'd finished there she wasn't back. We started looking for her, then she came stumbling out of this alley—"

Something had happened to Bella. Had she tripped and been hurt? Had she been robbed?

I glared at Ben to spur him on, and he continued. "I'm sorry, Edward. I never should have let her go alone. I shouldn't have let her out of my sight. I had no idea something like this could happen—" He took a shaky breath, and the car swerved as he nearly lost control of it.

"Ben, what is it?" I choked out. My voice quavered as other possibilities swept through my mind. I had seen many terrible things during my time at the hospital. Women were often victims of the most heinous crimes.

He shook his head then continued. "She said she was walking past an alley, and a man called out to her. He was lying toward the back, against the wall, she said, and she thought he was hurt. He asked her to help him…"

Although it was physically impossible for me to feel cold or hot, a deep chill seemed to envelop me. I waited for Ben to go on.

His breath hitched. His heartbeat was frantic now. "She's so kind, so compassionate… so she approached him, and he…"

"He what?" I demanded. "What did he do to her?"

"He attacked her—threw her against the wall, from what I could piece together."

"Is she hurt?" I managed to ask.

"I don't…" He sucked in another breath. "Yeah. Her head was bleeding; she said she'd hit it when she fell. She seemed disoriented for a little while, and she was stumbling. Her clothes were ripped, and her face was smudged."

"Did she say what he did to her?" I asked again.

He shook his head. "She kept saying she was all right, that she just wanted to go home. Ange and I wanted to take her to the doctor in Bend, but she insisted she should return to Madras as soon as possible. I didn't know what to do, Edward. I'm sorry."

I smelled salt and realized that he had tears in his eyes. I wanted to be angry with him, furious in fact, for his failure to protect her. But I could not. This was my fault entirely. I had allowed her to go to Bend; I had abandoned her to that monster.

I sat rigidly in the seat until we reached the house, then I leapt from the motorcar and dashed inside. At that moment I did not care if Ben noticed how fast I ran. Nothing mattered but seeing my wife and finding out how badly she was injured.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	41. Chapter 41

**Note:** _I apologize for failing to respond to all of the reviews for the last chapter. But I wanted to get this chapter ready for posting so that readers wouldn't be kept hanging, so I hope you can forgive me. As always, I am extremely grateful for every review; each one means the world to me._

* * *

><p>I paused for an instant as I entered the house. I heard two heartbeats, both faster than normal. I recognized each easily and knew that Angela was still here with Bella. I looked up to see Angela sitting at the top of the stairs, her head in her hands.<p>

"Angela," I said.

She looked up and stood, hurrying down as I began to climb up. "Edward. My God, I'm so sorry—" She blinked back tears.

"How is she?" I interjected. I cared about nothing else.

She glanced back over her shoulder. "She seems a little better than when we first found her. She was dizzy then, and there was a lot of blood from her head. Ben carried her to the motorcar, and I sat with her in the back during the drive. Her legs were steadier when we got here, and she was thinking clearly again. She said she wanted to take a bath to wash away the grime. I think she's finished now…"

My stomach ached at Angela's words. "Thank you for taking care of her," I managed as I brushed past her. "You and Ben should get back to town…"

"Please let us know how she's doing," Angela said, her voice tremulous.

I heard Ben step into the house and knew that he and his wife exchanged a few words, but then my full attention shifted to Bella. She had just entered the bedroom. I could smell the bathwater and soap. A faint hint of blood remained in the air, too.

I opened the door and stepped inside. "Bella," I breathed.

She sat on the bed, her hair still dripping. She had wrapped a dressing gown around herself; it was damp in several places. She looked up at me and whispered, "Edward."

Instantly I had her in my arms. I cradled her tenderly, kissing her wet hair softly.

"Bella," I sighed, immensely relieved to feel her body pressed against mine.

I held her for a long time. Her small, warm hands clutched softly at my shirt, and her breathing slowed as my fingers traced gently over her shoulder blades. Neither of us spoke for several minutes. But my brief relief at our reunion faded quickly, and I knew there were questions I needed to ask.

I began with the most important one. "How are you doing, darling?"

I drew back to look at her. She was pale, and I could see a laceration beneath the hair clinging to her brow. My gaze moved quickly over her, but most of her body was hidden by the dressing gown.

"I'm all right," she replied after a moment. She lifted her hand to rest her fingertips over her left eyebrow. Then she murmured, "I hit my head…"

I nodded and carefully moved away the strands of hair to expose the wound fully. The cut was four centimeters long. The surrounding tissues were swollen and beginning to bruise. Gingerly I examined the laceration, finding that the damage was contained to the cutaneous layer. It would not require sutures.

Cupping my wife's cheek gently with one hand, I tilted up her head so that I could study her eyes carefully. I held out the index finger of my other hand and instructed softly, "Follow this with your eyes, love."

She complied, demonstrating adequate ocular motor function. Her pupils, however, remained slightly dilated even in the afternoon light.

I ran my hands over her entire scalp then felt gently along her cervical vertebrae as I asked, "Is your vision blurry?"

She blinked then looked toward the door. "No, I don't think so."

"Do you have a headache, darling?"

"Yes," she replied quietly, "but it's not too bad."

"Are you dizzy or light-headed?"

"Not really."

"Any nausea?"

"Um, maybe a bit."

Her reticence hinted to me that she was experiencing each symptom to a more significant degree than she wished to admit.

Suppressing a sigh, I reported, "I think you have a mild concussion." I felt numb. My wife had been hit hard enough to suffer a brain injury, and it was due to my irresponsibility. Mechanically, I continued, "It means there's a little swelling beneath the skull. It should resolve within twenty-four to thirty-six hours."

She nodded slightly. "It doesn't hurt that much," she said, but her voice sounded weak.

Was she referring only to her head? Where else was she injured? What other damage had that brute inflicted upon her?

I took her hands as gently as I could. "Tell me what happened."

Her fingers curled around mine, and I noticed that her skin now felt cool. I feared she was beginning to go into shock, but I needed to know the truth. It was all I could do to refrain from ripping away her dressing gown so that I could examine every inch of her body and see for myself what that monster had done to her.

She looked down at our joined hands. "I wanted to go to a book store that I'd noticed when we drove into town," she began very softly. "I left Angela and Ben at a bakery. As I walked past an alley, someone called out to me—a man, who was slumped against the back wall. He said he needed help. I told him I'd find someone, but he moaned and his head fell forward, and I thought he had lost consciousness. So I went to him to see what I could do…" She paused, and her heart sped up. Her hands were even colder now.

"It's all right, Bella. You can tell me," I urged as gently as I could. It was difficult to keep my voice low, but I knew it was necessary.

She continued, "As soon as I got near him, he reached up and grabbed my arm. He was a big man—strong, too—and he got to his feet quickly and threw me against the wall. That's when I hit my head."

"Did you lose consciousness?" This question was important on two counts. Her answer would help me determine the severity of her head injury, as well know if she was fully aware of everything that happened to her.

"I think so, maybe for a minute." Her brow furrowed as she relayed this information. She was not certain. "I felt the pain when my head hit the wall, and then everything seemed dark and sort of fuzzy. Then I was lying on the ground…"

She was still slightly disoriented, and I worried that her memory of the event might be impaired. Amnesia was a relatively common occurrence with a concussion; patients often struggled to recall the moments just before and just after such an injury occurred.

"Do you remember what happened next?" I kept my tone as calm as possible, but my mouth was a tight, hard line.

"He… he'd torn my blouse." She rubbed at her shoulder. "My skirt is ripped, too. I think I'll have to throw it out. I'm not sure I can mend it…" Her voice trailed off.

"All right, darling. That's not important. Did he hurt you in any other way?"

She blinked at me, compressing her lips. "I remembered something my father told me once," she replied.

She was not answering my question directly, which worried me. Her grip on my hands tightened as she spoke again.

"He said if a man ever attacked me—ever had me on the ground so that I couldn't get up—I should kick him as hard as I could right… there." One finger twitched toward my groin.

I had not taken a breath since she began speaking. "Bella, tell me what he did."

She blinked, her brow furrowing. "He said horrible things to me—vile, filthy things. And he smelled terrible, like stale sweat and alcohol. His hands were very dirty." She frowned deeply and rotated her wrist so that the sleeve fell back slightly.

I saw four small crescent-shaped gouges on the tender skin of her wrist. "Oh sweetheart," I whispered, "I'm sorry."

"He was so large and so strong. He was holding me down, with his hands wrapped around my arm and my leg, and I was afraid he'd break the the bones because his grip was so hard. So I decided to stay still and wait until he thought I wouldn't fight back, until he let down his guard a little. I just lay there, and I didn't cry out when his nails dug into me. I waited until he was kneeling over me, and then I jerked up my knee as fast as I could. And I felt it hit him—it was soft and sort of squishy. It didn't feel the way I thought it would."

I nodded and stroked her wrist very softly. "What happened then?"

"He grunted and cursed and put his hands over himself. I was able to sit up then, and I slapped him as hard as I could. Then I kicked him in the chest, and he fell back. I managed to get to my feet, and I ran as fast as I could… and then I saw Angela and Ben, but I was scared he would still come after me and that he might try to hurt them too, so I told them we had to come home as quickly as possible." She was breathing rapidly as the final words tumbled from her.

I lifted her hands to kiss them. "You were so brave, sweetheart. I'm very proud of you."

Her sleeve had slipped back further to reveal her the length of her arm up to her elbow. I could see contusions all along her forearm. I lowered her hands to her lap and slowly slid up the other sleeve. While only the left wrist had the wicked little gouges in it, both arms were bruised. Fury thudded through me at the thought of the man's hands upon her. It was difficult to repress my rage, but I needed to remain calm and gentle for Bella's sake.

I took several slow breaths and focused my attention on Bella's heartbeat. Once my limbs were steady again, I felt along the delicate bones of each of her hands and wrists in case she had sustained any damage when she slapped the monster. I found some minor swelling in her right wrist; she had strained the tendons, and she would feel some tenderness at the site for a few days.

Bella sat quietly while I examined her arms and hands. When I had finished, I touched the collar of her dressing gown. "May I see your shoulder?" She had rubbed at it as though it were sore.

She nodded, and I untied the sash at her waist then opened the robe. She took one little, quick breath when I slid the garment down over her arms. I noticed that she kept her hands in her lap with the sleeves still around her wrists.

My eyes moved over her shoulders, chest, and abdomen. My gaze was both sharply professional and intensely personal. I felt my jaw clench at the sight of the deep bruise forming on her shoulder. He had gripped her fiercely there.

My eyes lowered to her breasts. I found no evidence of bruising or other injury upon the silky, creamy flesh, and I felt a momentary flicker of relief. There was a small contusion just over the fourth rib on the left side, but I could not tell what had caused it. Aside from this, I saw no other evidence of injury to her torso.

I examined her shoulder carefully. I found no damage to the bones, joint, or tendons, but it would likely be sore for several days. I moved my hands down to rest over the top of her ribcage.

She lifted her hand to touch my wrist. "Edward, I think I'm all right," she said. "It doesn't hurt."

"Please, Bella, I need to check." Urgency infused my tone, and I believe she understood my fear.

She gave a nod of consent. I felt along each rib then gently palpated the upper quadrants of her abdomen. I perceived no injury. I moved around to look at her back. There was a scrape over her left scapula, most likely caused by the wall when she fell. Aside from this, there did not appear to be any other wounds.

I knelt in front of her again. She clutched the edges of the robe in her fingers. I placed my hand upon her knee and began moving aside the fabric.

"What are you doing?" she asked with a frown.

"I want to see your legs," I replied.

"They're fine." Her answer was immediate.

I felt she was trying to hide something, and this only increased my fears. For one moment I hesitated, and then, with forced calm, I said, "Sweetheart, I just want to check in case there's a scratch or scrape you aren't aware of. Each one should be cleaned…"

A shiver ran through her. She was chilled, another indicator of impending shock. I reached for the blanket at the end of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. Slowly her fingers uncurled from the fabric, and she permitted me to open the robe. Before I looked down, I inhaled slowly, steeling myself for the odor I dreaded. If his stench still clung to her…

But I smelled only Bella's lovely scent mixed with her soap and the tinge of blood from her head and wrist. She had washed away his foulness when she bathed.

I lowered my gaze to her thighs. There was a single large contusion on her right thigh, a few inches below the juncture of her hip. Her other leg was unmarred. I felt around the bruise as gently as I could, but Bella still winced slightly at my touch.

"I'm sorry," I murmured.

Her hand came to rest over mine. "It's all right, Edward. _I'm_ all right."

I looked up at her pale face. "Are you certain? He didn't… hurt you elsewhere?"

A hint of color crept over her cheeks. "No."

Our gazes met for a long moment. I knew she could see the unasked question in my eyes. Her fingers curled around my wrist, and she shook her head.

"No, Edward, _no_."

"Thank God." I pulled her into my arms again. "I'm so sorry, darling, so sorry I wasn't there to protect you—"

"It's not your fault," she said softly. "I was foolish to go into the alley."

"No, you were trying to help. I love you for that, sweetheart. I love you more than you can imagine."

I kissed her cheeks and lips tenderly, pleased and relieved when her hands moved up to tangle in my hair. The gesture was familiar, comfortable, and comforting. A little sigh escaped her, and she sagged slightly against me. She was clearly exhausted and in pain.

I rubbed her back gently for a few moments then arranged the pillows the way she liked them. She sat wrapped in the blanket, watching me as I took a loose cotton chemise from her dresser then returned to her side. Carefully I slipped it over her head then helped her to lie back against the pillows. I pulled the blanket over her again; she remained chilled.

I removed a few items from my bag then sat beside her. "I'm going to clean the wounds on your head and wrist," I told her, waiting for her small nod of acknowledgment.

Working as gently as I could, I swabbed the laceration on her brow then attended to the cruel gouges on her wrist. I knew the carbolic solution stung, but I felt it important to ensure that all of the wounds were treated thoroughly. The thought of that brute's filthy hands touching her made my skin crawl…

After I had tidied up the supplies, I asked Bella if she would like some tea. I hoped that the warmth of the beverage would chase away her lingering chill. She agreed to try a few sips, so I hurried downstairs to the kitchen.

I found that someone—Angela, most likely—had set out the tea things. All I needed to do was heat the water and pour it into the pot. In a few minutes I held a thick mug in my hands. I placed several of Bella's favorite tea biscuits on a small plate then hastened back to my wife.

Her eyes remained open, but she was quite still. A ghost of a smile graced her lips as I entered the room. She pushed herself up and took several small swallows of the hot liquid.

"Better?" I asked, watching her carefully.

A hint of color suffused her lips and cheeks, and her pulse had steadied somewhat.

She nodded. "Thank you, Edward."

I offered her a wooden smile. "Just rest tonight, love. Do you want me to stay with you, or would you rather be alone?"

"Stay, please," she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

"Of course."

She snuggled up to me, and soon her breathing grew deep and even as slumber claimed her.

* * *

><p>I did not leave my wife's side throughout the evening and night. I regretted that I had to wake her several times, but it was necessary due to the head injury. She roused sluggishly but successfully each time, accepting my apologies for disturbing her slumber. Twice she shuffled off to the bathroom, returning to sink into sleep quickly again.<p>

As the sky was beginning to lighten, her heart rate increased, and she began to mutter softly. Her small hands moved beneath the covers just before a moan escaped her.

"Bella," I said, placing my hand upon her cheek, "it's all right, love. You're safe. I'm here with you."

She quieted, and when she opened her eyes just after seven o'clock, her gaze was clear, and she was fully oriented. Her pupils had returned to normal, but she confessed that the headache remained.

"It may persist for a day or two," I told her. "Would you like me to give you something for it?"

"It's not that bad," she replied.

Still, she did not protest when I placed my hands gently over her temples and brow, providing her with her own, personal cold compress. She seemed to feel better after a few minutes and said she wished to get up.

I wanted to help her, to support her, as she stood, but I knew it was important that I observe her steadiness and gait. Ataxia could indicate increasing intercranial pressure, which would require immediate treatment.

Fortunately Bella seemed no less steady than usual, so once she had donned a dressing gown I took her hand and walked down the stairs with her. Her scent alerted me that her blood sugar levels had dropped; she had not eaten in many hours. I prepared a small breakfast of an egg and a slice of bread with peach preserves, but she ate unenthusiastically.

"You don't have much of an appetite this morning," I commented.

"I'm hungry, but I feel a little queasy," she replied. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize, sweetheart. It's a side effect of the concussion. You do need to get a bit of food into your system, though; your blood sugar is low, and that's going to make you feel weak and light-headed. Try to have a few more bites of the toast. It will help."

She nodded and complied. When she paled a few minutes later, I tensed, worried that emesis was imminent. However, she inhaled and exhaled slowly several times and told me that the feeling was passing.

Despite my recommendation that she remain in her nightclothes and rest in bed, she insisted that she wanted to dress. We finally compromised, agreeing that she would lie on the sofa or sit in one of the leather armchairs with her feet up until I deemed that she had recovered fully.

* * *

><p>Shortly before noon, Angela and Ben drove up in their small carriage. They wore their Sunday clothing, but both appeared slightly disheveled and tired. They approached the house cautiously, clearly worried that they were disturbing us but obviously concerned about Bella.<p>

I opened the door to greet them as they stepped onto the porch. "Good morning," I said.

"Good morning," both replied. Then Angela clasped her hands and said, "We're sorry to intrude, but we've been so worried about Bella. We wanted to see how she's feeling."

"Please come in," I replied. "I know she'd like to see you."

This news brought smiles to their faces, and they followed me inside. Angela had a basket over her arm; I could smell some sort of baked item inside.

"Edward," Ben said, placing his hand upon my arm, "I want to apologize again. It was all my fault—"

I shook my head, my emotions much calmer today. "If anyone is to blame, it is I. Please don't feel badly about this. You brought her home to me, and for that I am grateful."

Angela hugged me, and Ben gave me a nod of understanding. I led them to the parlor, where Bella was stretched out on the sofa. A smile lit up her face the moment she saw her visitors. She began to stand, but Angela hurried over, embracing her before she got to her feet.

"Oh Bella," Angela said, her voice shaking, "I'm so glad to see you up. How are you feeling?" Her gaze fixed upon the wound on Bella's brow. Most of the swelling had receded, but the contusion was blue and purple today.

Bella smiled thinly. "I'm fine. Edward's being a worry-wart and making me rest today, but there's really no need."

"Bella," I interjected, "you had a concussion. That is not something to be taken lightly."

"A concussion?" Ben repeated. "Dear lord. Are you all right?"

Bella sighed. "Yes, I am. Really. You're all fussing way too much." Her eyes moved from Angela to Ben. "Where's Rosemary?"

"She's with my mother," Ben replied. "We didn't want her to disturb you if you were sleeping."

Bella appeared disappointed. "Oh. I wish you'd brought her. I feel like I haven't seen her in ages."

Angela chuckled. "It's only been a day."

"I know," Bella said, "but she's such a dear little thing. Is it all right if I stop at the store tomorrow morning to give her a cuddle?"

"Of course," Angela responded. "You know you're welcome any time. You're her special auntie."

"Bella," I said rather sternly, "I don't know if you'll be ready to go into town tomorrow—"

She huffed in reply, but I knew she appreciated my solicitousness at least a bit. Angela changed the subject with a flourish as she uncovered the contents of the basket. It contained small apple turnovers, which delighted Bella. She said they smelled delicious.

Angela offered to prepare tea, and a few minutes later we all sat in the parlor, where the humans sipped their drinks and ate turnovers while I feigned a few swallows. I was pleased to see that Bella ate a turnover and did not appear nauseated afterward.

The Webers stayed for half an hour but left when Bella tired to cover up a yawn.

"You should rest," Angela advised, giving me a quick glance. She remained worried for her friend's health.

Ben kissed Bella's cheek. "Take it easy," he said. "We'll see you soon."

Bella thanked them for coming and for bringing the goodies, and she insisted on walking them to the door. I kept my arm around her waist as we waved at the carriage.

"You're tired, darling," I said after our friends had departed. "Why don't I take you upstairs for a nap?"

"Honestly, Edward, you're treating me like an invalid. I had a little bump on the head, but it's feeling much better."

"Are you certain?"

She nodded. "My headache is almost gone. I think Angela's turnovers were just what I needed."

"They do seem to agree with you," I observed, noting that her color was much improved.

"So let's just put this behind us. There's no need to belabor it."

"You must promise to tell me if you feel nauseated again or dizzy, or have any other unusual symptoms."

"I will," she replied, pushing up onto her toes so that she could kiss me. "But right now, I want you to be my husband, not my doctor."

"But darling, it's difficult not to be both."

"Try, my love. Just for today, can we read or play cards or just sit in the orchard and think pleasant thoughts? I want to put yesterday behind us and go on with our lives."

"Whatever you wish, sweetheart." I kissed her softly and wrapped her in my arms.

There was nothing I wanted more than to forget the attack and the dread I had felt when I feared the worst. So for Bella's sake I would make every attempt to move forward and continue building our blissful life together.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	42. Chapter 42

Despite her insistence that she was fine, Bella slept for ten-and-a-half hours on Sunday night. I monitored her closely, watching for signs of both physical and emotional distress. When her breathing and heartbeat quickened just after three o'clock in the morning, I knew another nightmare was building.

My own emotions surged, anger coursing through me as I thought of the brute who had attacked my wife. Bella had asked me to put the incident behind us, to move forward, but a very large part of me wanted to charge into Bend and find the bastard, then punish him severely for hurting Bella. Her body remained bruised and scraped, and her mind was wounded, too. My fury simmered as I began to plan. I could get his scent from her clothing and track him without difficulty. If he was still in Bend, I would find him.

Then Bella whimpered. Steadying my hand and suppressing my rage, I smoothed my fingers over her warm brow and kissed her temple and cheek as I spoke softly to her, assuring her that she was safe.

As I continued to stroke her hair and face and murmur tender words to her, my ire subsided. She calmed me just as I calmed her. Her dream seemed to dissipate after a few minutes, and her body and mind relaxed. I realized that she needed me here, with her, more than anything else.

* * *

><p>When Bella finally woke just after seven, she was groggy and sore. She stretched gingerly, rubbing at her eyes before finally placing her feet on the floor.<p>

"Darling," I said, "you don't need to get up yet. If you're still tired and achy, sleep some more—"

She shook her head. "Mrs. Carter is coming in at nine, remember?"

Of course I did. But Bella was my priority. "I can reschedule," I began.

"Absolutely not, Edward! And certainly not on my account. Besides, she's expecting that I'll be there."

That was true. Indeed, Bella was the one who had convinced the woman to return for the follow-up appointment. I had seen her on Thursday for severe lower back pain. Like most devoted wives and mothers, she neglected her own health and downplayed her discomfort in her efforts to care for her family. However, when her pain had become nearly debilitating she had sought my services at the suggestion of her neighbor, Mrs. McMahon.

Even so, Mrs. Carter had been hesitant and anxious when she entered the office. It was Bella who ultimately put her at ease and convinced her to permit me to examine her rather than simply prescribe her pain medication, as she had hoped I would do. I diagnosed a lumbar strain and recommended rest, heat, and a low dose of morphine. However, I wanted to see her again to be certain the treatment was working. While she showed no overt symptoms of kidney disease or other pathology, I felt it best to rule those out. She had resisted a return visit, but Bella's gentle concern and compassion had won out in the end.

"If I'm not there," Bella continued, "she may not let you examine her again."

Mrs. Carter had been one of our warier patients. In her case, it was fortunate that Bella needed to be by my side as I evaluated her. This seemed to alleviate some of the woman's anxieties. My wife truly was a godsend, in more ways than one.

"All right," I relented. "But we'll close early if you get tired."

"Honestly, Edward," she sighed, "you don't need to worry about me."

But I did. I watched her closely all day, gradually allowing myself to feel some relief when I realized that she was acting no different than usual. She was warm and amiable with the few patients we saw, and she did not appear particularly fatigued.

At noon she walked to the store to see Angela and the baby, and when she returned she was aglow with happiness.

"Rosemary smiled and laughed at me!" she said.

"She adores you," I replied, "just as I do."

The afternoon was quiet, so I closed the office at four and took Bella home. We spent a pleasant, relaxed evening reading before the fire, and when I settled beside my wife on the bed that night, I finally felt that everything was all right.

* * *

><p>There was one aspect of our life, however, that did not return to our former patterns immediately. Before Bella's attack, we had made love every night, and often in the morning. It had become an innate act, as natural as our caresses and kisses had once been. I missed my wife terribly; my body ached for her, to feel the depth of connection that physical intimacy brings.<p>

But now I felt hesitant. She had been exhausted and hurt the first night. The second night her exhaustion had lingered: She had fallen asleep the moment she had gotten into bed. On Monday night I held her as usual, and we talked softly for a few minutes before sleep claimed her.

On Tuesday night, we kissed for several long minutes, and my hands stroked her shoulders and arms gently. Our eyes met, but after a moment my gaze fell to her shoulder, where the bruise was still visible. She was so fragile, so delicate… I could not risk hurting her. So I kissed her cheek and wished her a sound sleep. She sighed, then rolled over so that I could wrap my arms around her as her body curled against mine.

Wednesday night brought a rainstorm, with thunder and lightning. Bella was getting ready for bed when a particularly bright flash and loud crash made her gasp and start. Automatically I wrapped my arms around her and held her to me. She pressed her cheek to my chest, her warm hand resting over my still heart.

She wore only a light chemise. I could feel her soft breasts and belly against my stony skin. Without thinking, I lifted her chin and kissed her deeply. She responded ardently, and soon we were lying on the bed, her nimble fingers working at the buttons on my shirt.

"Bella," I gasped, pausing to look down at her, "are you sure?"

"Sure?" she repeated. "About what?"

"About doing this…"

The flush of arousal left her cheeks as she paled. "Oh. You… you don't want to."

"Why would you think that, love?" I asked softly, tracing her collar bone with my fingertip.

She swallowed reflexively. "You haven't wanted to this week…"

"I didn't want to hurt you while you were still bruised."

She shook her head. "You won't hurt me; you've never hurt me."

I kissed her gently in reply.

"I've missed you, Edward," she said, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"Oh Bella. I've missed you, too."

We expressed our love very tenderly that night, and when Bella finally feel asleep in my arms I felt fully content once again.

* * *

><p>The next several days passed pleasantly. We invited the Webers to dinner on Saturday evening. I had gotten quite adept at pretending to eat and drink, so dining with friends was quite agreeable—at least for the aspects of the company if not the food.<p>

Rosemary became fussy toward the end of the evening. Angela fed her and changed her diaper, but these did not help. Finally Angela asked me if I thought the baby felt feverish. With Bella beside me, I rested my fingers against her the soft skin of the infant's cheek.

"I think she is a little warm," I confirmed.

I felt gently over her neck and belly and examined her for any rashes, then got my stethoscope so that I could assure her parents that I had checked her lungs.

"I don't think it's anything serious," I reassured Angela and Ben. "Babies are susceptible to many things. Most likely she'll be fine in the morning. But don't hesitate to come for me if you're worried during the night."

They thanked me and left. Bella and I cleaned up the dishes. I could tell that she was a little anxious about Rosemary, but I reiterated that a mild fever was not cause for concern. We ended our night wrapped in each other's arms, our worries forgotten.

* * *

><p>Bella slept late on Sunday morning. After a leisurely breakfast, we dressed and prepared to go into town. We both wanted to check on Rosemary. I suspected she was feeling better; I knew Ben would have come for me if she were any worse.<p>

Bella had just finished buttoning her blouse when she blanched suddenly and pressed her hand over her mouth. She hurried to the bathroom, where she remained behind the closed door for several minutes.

I listened intently, concerned that she was ill. However, she did not vomit, and after a short while she came out and said she was feeling better.

"But you were nauseated?" I asked worriedly.

"A little. But it's passing now. I think I know how Rosemary felt last night…"

I cupped her cheek with my hand to feel for fever. She was slightly warm, but I doubted her temperature was any higher than 98.8. Still, I told her I wanted her to rest. She complied, but only on the condition that I check on Rosemary myself.

I left her lying down in the bedroom. I drove to town and knocked at the Webers' door. Ben answered and told me that the baby remained a little fussy and feverish, but she was no worse. Angela was feeling slightly under the weather, too.

Ben was grateful that I had come. I had a quick look at both Angela and Rosemary and found that neither exhibited serious symptoms. I advised Ben to be sure his wife drank plenty of water and ate lightly, and again told him to come for me if he had any concerns.

I tried not to be brusque, but I wanted to return home to Bella as soon as possible. I disliked leaving her alone, particularly when she was ill. I departed as soon as I was able.

Bella was still in the bedroom; she was dozing. I walked quietly to the bed to observe her. Her heartbeat and breathing were normal, but she was paler than I liked. I gently rested my fingertips over her wrist to feel her pulse. It was steady and strong, and her skin was no warmer than before.

After a few minutes she stirred and opened her eyes. She smiled at me. "Edward…"

"Yes, love, I'm back."

"How is Rosemary?"

"About the same—no worse. Angela seems to have a touch of something, too."

"Oh." She frowned. "That's too bad."

"I'm sure it will pass soon. How are you feeling?"

"Better." She sat up and wriggled a bit, pressing her hands over her lower back.

"Your back is sore?" I questioned.

She shrugged. "I just feel a little achy."

"Mmm, I'm sorry," I murmured, pulling her into my lap so that I could rest my palms against her back. I rubbed softly, hoping to ease her discomfort.

After a few minutes, she said I had helped her and that she was feeling hungry. This was good news to my ears. I watched her while she ate, concerned that her nausea might return. However, her stomach did not bother her, though she remained rather pale.

I convinced her to rest for the remainder of the day, and in the morning she claimed that her brief ailment had passed fully. "I hope Angela and Rosemary are better, too," she finished.

I checked her for fever one final time and felt carefully along the glands in her neck, but I found no sign of illness. She smiled when I reported my findings.

"I suppose I'm bound to get a little sick occasionally," she commented. "I think in that regard you're fortunate that you aren't human."

My eyebrows drew together as I contemplated her words. Of course I knew, at some level, that she was susceptible to contagious diseases. I had determined months ago that she had contracted all the usual childhood illnesses and would be immune to them now. I had briefly thought that I would send her away if I were ever faced with a patient who was virulently ill, hoping that I could deal with such an emergency on my own. But aside from that vague consideration, the dangers of her work had not fully struck me until now.

"What's the matter, darling?" she asked, smoothing her fingers over my tight brow.

I shook my head. "I've been so selfish. I never fully considered the peril I've placed you in by asking that work beside me."

She blinked at me. "Peril? You're afraid I'll get sick?"

"You already have," I reminded her miserably.

"From Rosemary, or possibly from Angela," she replied. "I don't think it was from anyone we saw at the office. No one had those symptoms."

"But it could happen, easily. If a patient entered with typhoid or cholera or—"

"Edward," she interjected, "you will treat any patient who comes to us to the best of your ability, and I will assist you in all the ways that I can. We have agreed on this. Don't you think I realized that I'd face sick people when I offered to help you? I know there is some possible danger, but if I were ever to become seriously ill—gravely ill—you would save me."

I grasped her hands. "There are some diseases from which I could not—there are strains of influenza, scarlet fever—"

She smiled placidly. "It is within your power to save me from _anything._ Perhaps not through conventional medical means, but you can save me nonetheless."

We had not discussed this topic since she made her initial request to me months ago. I suppose a part of me had hoped that in our wedded bliss she would forget, that we could simply live our lives as happily and humanly as possible for as long as we were given. I was not ready to relinquish that dream yet.

"Bella, no," I muttered.

She squeezed my hands tightly. "Just tell me that if the time ever comes when you must make a choice, that you will choose to save me."

I shook my head, but she took my face in her hands and kissed me. "Don't ever let me go," she whispered.

There was only one response I could give her, only one answer that was the truth. "No… never."

But I hoped to God—to all that was holy and right and just—that I would not face such a wrenching, devastating decision for many, many years to come.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	43. Chapter 43

**_Note:_** _This was a very difficult chapter to write, as it deals with a patient who has a stillbirth. If this is a sensitive subject for you, please skip this chapter. _

* * *

><p>Angela and Rosemary remained feverish for another day. Bella had been fortunate to recover so quickly. Of course she had been able to rest without interruption, while Angela needed to nurse the baby regardless of how she was feeling.<p>

By mid-week, however, our friends were well again. Bella was pleased; she had worried about Angela and Rosemary while they were ill. I knew that the two women had become quite close, and I was glad that my wife had a friend. Much as I would have loved to be her sole companion twenty-four hours a day, I recognized that her life was fuller and richer with other relationships.

I enjoyed Angela's and Ben's company, too. I had led such a solitary life with Carlisle. I had never dared to seek friendship among my fellow medical students or the other physicians at the hospital. So enjoying the society of the Webers added a welcome bit of amiability to my existence. Visiting with Ben, chatting about local politics and economics, or world affairs and the global economy, was quite enjoyable. Watching Angela with the baby—seeing the natural maternal love that radiated from the kind woman—brought a new emotionality to my life. I understand the meaning of family, and I felt grateful that Bella and I were sometimes included.

* * *

><p>Bella had lunch with Angela on Wednesday and returned to the office looking cheerful and content. She held up a small basket.<p>

"She sent turnovers for you," she told me with a wry smile.

I arched an eyebrow. "How kind of her. I'm glad you like them so much."

She laughed. "I do. I've already had two, but I think I might indulge in one more after dinner tonight."

Our light conversation was interrupted by the sound of horse's hooves pounding down the street. I heard it first and hurried to the window.

"Edward?" Bella asked.

"Someone's riding into town very fast…"

The horse nearly skidded to a halt in front of the office, and a rider dismounted. He wore work clothes, and his large hands were calloused. Pale blond hair framed his tanned face. I judged his age to be mid-thirties. I hastened out to meet him, quickly surmising that he was in need of my services. However, I could not enter the street, as the day was sunny. I waited in the shade while he dismounted.

"Dr. Cullen?" he asked rather breathlessly. He removed his hat when Bella joined me.

"Yes," I replied. "How can I help you?"

"It's my wife, Jane," he panted.

"Jane McMahon?" Bella questioned, recalling the woman who had brought her son to me for croup. We had seen her again the following day when she brought a basket of eggs to the office. I had estimated that Mrs. McMahon was approximately twenty-five weeks pregnant at the time.

He nodded. "She's with child, but the baby's not supposed to come until early August. She started having some pains this morning, and they've gotten a lot worse. I wanted to bring her in, but she was hurting so much I was afraid to move her." His twisted his hat in his hands anxiously.

"I'll get my bag," I said immediately, ducking back inside to gather the supplies I anticipated requiring. This did not bode well for Mrs. McMahon or the fetus.

When I returned the waiting room, Bella was standing at the door. Her expression clearly conveyed her worry.

"He's gone back to the farm. I told him we'd be there very soon," she said. "What do you think is wrong?"

"There are a number of possibilities," I replied, quickly putting on my jacket and hat.

In a few minutes we were in the motorcar, driving toward the McMahons' farm. The sun blazed down on us, and I glanced about to be certain there was no one else on the road who might see the light glinting off my hands. I had avoided house calls thus far for this very reason. It was difficult to control the lighting when I was outside of my office. Still, there would be situations in which I would have to attend a patient in his or her home. I could not serve the community's medical needs without the occasional visit to farms and homesteads.

"Bella," I said gravely, "when we get there, you're going to have to make sure all the curtains and shades are drawn. I'll need you to do that first thing."

She nodded in understanding. We had discussed this more than once, but we both felt anxious about the logistics of it.

When we reached the farm, I stopped the vehicle and made a rapid survey of the exterior of the house. The front faced east, so there would be no direct sunlight streaming into the open windows when we entered. I could see an addition on the north side and hoped it might be the couple's bedroom. The other rooms appeared to be on the west end of the building where the sun would blaze through any apertures.

As I gathered my things, I said, "If she's in one of the west-facing rooms, I may need to move her."

"Yes," Bella agreed quickly.

We hastened toward the house. Mr. McMahon opened the door and gestured for us to enter. Immediately I smelled blood and amniotic fluid. A low moan resonated from my right, and I realized with relief that my patient was in the room on the north side of the house.

"She's in here," Mr. McMahon said, walking quickly toward the bedroom door.

Young James sat near the hearth with another child, a girl who appeared two or three years his senior. Her little face was pinched with worry; she understood that something bad was happening to her mother. James appeared less affected, likely due to her efforts to engage him in a game of jacks.

Bella and I followed Mr. McMahon into the bedroom. She entered first and quickly surveyed the windows. The curtains were drawn, and only a few rays of sunlight filtered through. She glanced at me with a subtle nod, and I knew she would pull the drapes more securely as soon as she had the chance. Fortunately the bed was in shadow.

Mrs. McMahon lay curled on her side, her back toward the door. Mrs. Carter sat next to her, rubbing at her back. She looked up at us.

"Oh, Dr. Cullen, thank God you're here," she said softly. With a nod, she acknowledged Bella. "Mrs. Cullen."

Bella smiled gently, but she blanched as soon as she saw the blood on the sheets. It was not a great deal, but it was an ominous sign. I moved around to face Mrs. McMahon.

"Mrs. McMahon," I said gently, "it's Dr. Cullen."

She opened her eyes and looked up at me. Her lips were tightly compressed, and her hands clenched over her belly as another contraction rolled through her. Her heart was racing, and her breathing was shallow.

"Dr… Cullen," she repeated. "Please… can you help me?"

"I'm going to do everything I can," I replied.

Bella had moved to stand beside me, quickly helping me remove my jacket. Then I felt her warm fingers touch my back, and I took Mrs. McMahon's wrist in my hand.

Her pulse was still relatively strong, but it was rapid. More distressing than this, however, was the fact that I heard only four adult heartbeats in the room. The quick flutter of a fetal heart was absent.

"When did the pain begin?" I asked Mrs. McMahon, opening my bag to remove my stethoscope.

"This morning. It wasn't that bad at first, but then it got worse…" She gasped as another contraction struck.

I held her hand until it passed. "Does your back hurt, too?"

She nodded and blinked at her tears. "Seems like the pains won't stop…And the blood…"

I looked up, saying, "Mrs. Carter, would you be able to take the children to your house?"

Her eyes widened as she comprehended my meaning. I did not want the children to witness their parents' deep distress when I informed them that their baby would be stillborn.

"Yes, of course," she said, standing. She squeezed the other woman's shoulder and murmured a few sympathetic words before leaving the room.

I returned my attention to my patient. "I'm going to help you roll onto your back," I told her.

She did not protest when I shifted her position. I spent a few long moments with the stethoscope pressed against her womb in several places. Just this once I wished that my preternatural hearing abilities had failed me. I hoped beyond hope to perceive even the tiniest quiver of the baby's heartbeat, but there was nothing.

With Bella's fingers still at my back, I continued my examination, pausing once when another contraction swept through the unfortunate woman. After a few minutes, I heard Mrs. Carter and the children walking away from the house. It was now time to tell Mr. and Mrs. McMahon the terrible news.

He was seated beside his wife, holding her hand securely in his. I sat on the other side of her, while Bella remained standing behind me.

"When did you last feel the baby move?" I asked gently, hoping to prepare the parents at least partially.

Mrs. McMahon bit her lip. "Last night, I think. Usually she moves a lot in the morning, but I… I didn't feel anything when I woke up."

I nodded. "I'm afraid I have some very sad news."

A sob escaped her, and her husband's heart rate increased significantly. I waited a moment then continued.

"I'm very sorry, but you've suffered a placental abruption. It means that the placenta has pulled away from the uterine wall. The baby can't survive without it."

"Oh Lord," Mr. McMahon exhaled. "Is… does that mean it's…" He could not utter the word.

I replied with a cheerless nod.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Mrs. McMahon asked. "Mrs. Weber told me how you delivered Rosemary…"

"I'm afraid it's too late for that," I responded as kindly as I could. "There's no heartbeat. The baby is already gone."

Tears welled from her eyes, and her husband swallowed back a sob. I could smell a hint of salt from Bella, too. Her hand flattened against my back as her other hand came to rest upon my shoulder.

No one spoke for several long moments, then I continued. It was necessary to convey all the information.

"You've been having contractions for some time," I said sympathetically. "Your body is ready to deliver the baby. It's time to let that happen."

Mr. McMahon nodded woodenly. Mrs. McMahon simply turned her head to the pillow and let the tears flow freely from her eyes.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," I said, standing.

I needed to prepare for the birth. More importantly, the couple needed a little time to ready themselves for a very difficult experience.

Bella helped me as I sterilized the equipment then set the items out on a towel-covered tray. I monitored my patient's heartbeat and respiration from the kitchen, aware that her contractions were nearly continuous at this point.

I had prepared for anaesthetic in case I needed to perform a Cesaerian section. I hoped this would not be the case, but it was certainly a possibility. I explained to Bella what I anticipated would happen. I felt great sadness knowing that her only experiences witnessing childbirth were so traumatic in nature.

We steeled ourselves with one brief embrace, then we returned to the bedroom. Bella made sure that the curtains were completely closed and lit several lamps. I asked Mr. McMahon to position himself behind his wife so that he could support her body, then Bella helped me to place pillows to support her legs.

"It's time to push," I told Mrs. McMahon as gently as I could, sitting at the foot of the bed.

Bella stationed herself behind me and placed her hand against my back.

Mrs. McMahon gripped her husband's hand and bore down with the next strong contraction. The delivery was wrenching, both physically and emotionally. When it was finally over, I knew that everyone was exhausted.

Bella had not wavered, remaining behind me with her hand against my back. But I was aware of the anguish she felt. Her skin was clammy, and her heartbeat was rapid. Mrs. McMahon had lost some blood during the delivery, which only compounded the distress my wife experienced.

Mr. McMahon took his son from me, and, after letting Mrs. McMahon see the baby he left the room. She groaned as another contraction began; the placenta still needed to be delivered.

When she began to hemorrhage, I was not particularly shocked, but this was an unwelcome complication. Bella gasped at the gush of blood, and I felt her begin to tremble.

"It's all right," I tried to reassure her.

But Mrs. McMahon had to be my priority at the moment. She was losing consciousness as the blood continued to flow. I began to massage the fundus, hoping to close off the blood vessels to the uterus. I worked vigorously for several minutes, and finally the flow slowed then ceased.

Bella's hand remained against me the entire time. However, as soon as I told her that the danger had passed, she stumbled back, murmuring, "I'm sorry!" She rushed from the room, her hand pressed over her mouth.

Quickly I cleaned up as much as I could, removing the sheets and blankets to dispose of with the afterbirth. I could hear Bella outside; she was retching violently. It was nearly unbearable to have to leave her alone, but I needed to monitor my patient for a few more minutes to be certain the bleeding did not resume. If it did, I was unsure what I would do. Could Bella assist me any further?

Mrs. McMahon was semi-conscious, but her pulse was relatively strong. I listened to her lungs to be certain there were no respiratory issues, then I administered a small dose of morphine to help her sleep comfortably. There was little else I could do for her. Rest and time were the only remedies for such a trauma.

Mr. McMahon had placed the baby in the children's room, where he sat anxiously awaiting word about his wife.

"She should be all right. She'll sleep now," I told him. Then, more gently, I asked, "Would you like me to send Reverend Joseph and the undertaker when I return to town?"

"I'd appreciate it," he replied. "Thank you, Dr. Cullen."

"I wish I could have done more."

"I know you did what you could."

"I need to check on Bella," I said apologetically. "But I'll be back in to see your wife in a few minutes."

He nodded. "Is it all right if I sit with her?"

"Of course. I'll be just outside if you need me."

I hurried out to the side of the house, where Bella sat hunched beneath a tree. Her arms were wrapped about her waist, and she remained very pale. I could see the traces of dried tears upon her cheeks.

"Darling," I said, immediately taking her into my arms.

She looked up at me. "I'm sorry I couldn't stay… I didn't want to get sick in there." She lifted her hand to my face; her skin was very cool. "Are you all right?"

"Yes."

"I was afraid you'd have to touch her again, but I…" She glanced at the evidence of her nausea. "I couldn't go back inside…"

I kissed her temple. "I was fine. How are you feeling?"

She shook her head dismissively. "Will Mrs. McMahon be all right?"

"She should be. The bleeding has stopped, and I've given her morphine, so she'll sleep for awhile."

"How is her husband doing?"

"He's sad, of course, and shocked. I'll send Reverend Joseph out. I think that will help."

She sank into me, pressing her cheek against my chest. I stroked her damp brow, brushing away the strands of hair clinging to her skin. A tiny moan escaped her, and she stiffened.

"You're still nauseated?" I asked.

She nodded miserably. "I'm sorry. I just… There was so much blood, and—"

She leaned away quickly, retching dryly then coughing, but she had emptied her stomach fully, it seemed. She coughed several more times, her arm wrapping about her abdomen again. I rubbed her back softly with one hand and placed the other against her neck.

"Oh sweetheart," I said, "you don't need to be here. I should get you home. This was a terrible thing. I'm so sorry you had to see it."

"It's all right. The important thing was that you were able... to help... Mrs. McMahon…" She hunched forward a bit more, her hand moving down to press lower over her belly as her breathing quickened.

"Take deep, slow breaths, sweetheart," I advised softly, continuing to rub at her back.

"Oh God, it just makes me ache to think about it, to know what she lost and how empty she must be feeling."

Bella was so compassionate, so empathetic. I loved her all the more for it, but I felt terribly that I'd placed her in such a heartrending situation.

"I know," I replied.

We sat quietly for a few minutes, and eventually her nausea subsided. She asked if there was anything she could do inside to help, and wished to see Mr. McMahon to offer her condolences.

We walked slowly back to the house and entered to find the couple in the bedroom. Mrs. McMahon remained asleep, while her husband sat beside her, her small hand cradled in his large ones. I spent several minutes evaluating her condition. She was doing as well as could be expected, and I felt she was out of danger now.

"I'm going to take Bella home," I said softly, "then I'll go into town to speak with Mr. Amberly and Reverend Joseph. I'll return with them and check on your wife again."

"Much obliged," the man replied.

Bella touched his shoulder lightly and said, "I'm so sorry."

He smiled wanly and gave a nod of acknowledgment. I checked Mrs. McMahon one more time, and, satisfied that she was in no danger, I escorted Bella from the room. We walked to the motorcar in silence, and only a few words passed between us as we drove home.

I helped Bella from the vehicle and took her inside. At my inquiry, she assured me that she was feeling better. She said she would be glad to accompany me to town, but I wanted her to rest. It had been a very difficult day for her, and she was still a bit pale and shaky.

I left her in the parlor with a cup of tea as I hurried off to town to complete my errands.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

**_Additional Note:_** _Please know that considerable thought and emotion went into writing this chapter. I am in no way making light of this wrenching subject. Complications with pregnancy and childbirth were, sadly, common in the early 1900s; in some areas, stillbirth rates were close to 20%. We are fortunate that medicine has improved significantly since then._


	44. Chapter 44

Bella spent the evening in the kitchen, baking cookies for the McMahon children and preparing a stew for the entire family. She said she would accompany me to their farm when I returned to check on Mrs. McMahon in the morning. I had examined her again after the minister left. Thankfully she was resting and showed no signs of additional complications.

My wife was exhausted by the time she climbed into bed just after ten o'clock. She fell asleep within moments, slumbering heavily throughout the entire night. For a short while, dreams seemed to shroud her mind. She murmured incomprehensible words then moaned softly as though she were in pain. Lying on her side, she pulled her legs up and curled into herself. I could only understand one word she said, but it was enough to know the content of her subconscious conjuring: "Baby."

I caressed her cheek, humming her lullaby until she relaxed and the dream dissipated. She did not move for the remainder of the night.

When she woke, she sat up with a grimace.

"What's the matter, love?" I asked.

"My stomach is a little sore from yesterday," she said, her cheeks coloring with the admission.

"I'm sorry, darling." I slid my arm around her shoulders and kissed her brow. "How many times did you vomit?"

She sighed. "A few."

"Oh Bella—"

She shook her head. "Please don't apologize," she said preemptively. "I don't regret being there, not for one moment. I just wish I could have done more, been of better help to you."

"Your presence was the most important help of all," I reassured her.

She looked up at me, her eyes bright. "Edward, I want you to teach me about medicine."

Her request surprised me. "Anything in particular?"

"I want to learn enough to be of assistance to you, real assistance. I've been thinking that we can start with the medications you have. I want to know all the names and uses of each one. I think you should also begin teaching me anatomy—"

I could not resist interjecting, "I've already taught you the most important parts, as far as I'm concerned."

She blushed anew. "Edward! You are incorrigible!"

"I'm sorry, my love." I gave her a crooked smile of contrition. "I would be glad to teach you basic anatomy and physiology if you like."

She nodded. "I know it will be helpful in my work with you. And maybe if I understand the body better—if I know how it all functions—I won't feel quite so squeamish."

"You've done a marvelous job," I told her sincerely. "Yesterday was an exception. Anyone would have had difficulty with that."

"Possibly. But my difficulty is more severe than most people's. I don't know when I've ever been that sick in my life."

All of the color drained from her face, and she swallowed hard. Her hand pressed over her belly, fingers curling in tightly.

"Bella?" I questioned.

"Just…" She took a slow breath in, then exhaled. "Just give me a moment."

I waited as she tried to steady her breathing and quell her nausea. My chest felt tight. This was my fault. I had exposed her to the harrowing event, immersing her in Mrs. McMahon's physical and emotional ordeal. I knew it had affected Bella terribly if the consequences still lingered.

She sat quietly for several minutes, and eventually her complexion grew a bit rosier as she began to feel better. I placed my hands upon her warm cheeks, leaving them in place for a few moments to soothe her.

"Why don't you rest for a while longer," I suggested. "I'll prepare some tea and a light breakfast for you."

She shook her head. "No, I need to get up."

"There's no rush—"

She gave a tiny, exasperated huff. "For a human there is!"

"Oh… of course."

I helped her out of bed and tucked a dressing gown around her shoulders before she hurried off to the bathroom. Then I darted downstairs to put the kettle on and begin cooking some eggs.

After Bella had eaten and dressed, we return to the McMahons' farm. The morning was cloudy and humid; rain seemed likely. While the weather would not help to cheer anyone's mood, it meant that I could move about the house without fear of being struck by a stray sunbeam.

Mrs. Carter had kept the children overnight, but now they were back. James did not fully understand what had occurred, but his sister, Pearl, knew that she had lost her baby brother and that her parents were very sad.

Mrs. McMahon was doing as well as could be expected. She remained weak, but her body was beginning to recover. I advised her to stay in bed for another full day and encouraged her to eat and drink despite her lack of appetite.

Bella brought a small bowl of stew in to her then sat by her side. Perhaps it was my wife's innate compassion or simply the warmth that she gently exuded, but something she said prompted Mrs. McMahon to take a few spoonfuls of the stew. I was pleased and knew this would help the woman begin to regain some strength. This was important for both her physical and emotional recovery.

Bella remained with her for about fifteen minutes, speaking softly while she ate, then brushing out her hair. She asked if there was anything else she could do, and Mrs. McMahon said she would like to wash her face. Bella smiled and went to the kitchen to heat some water. She filled a pitcher and returned to the bedroom.

I smiled as I recalled that I had performed similar actions many months ago while Bella was recovering. It seemed I had done the correct thing.

When Bella was finished, Mr. McMahon thanked her, then expressed his gratitude again for my help and asked how much he owed me. I told him that his wife had been very generous with the eggs and that there was no fee. This surprised him, but he did not argue. It was clear that the family had very little extra money, and he was undoubtedly relieved that he would not be indebted to me.

"Much obliged," he said. "We'll be sure you and Mrs. Cullen have fresh eggs every couple of days. I can send Pearl over to your house in the mornings—"

"That's not necessary," I replied. "But I appreciate the offer. If you'd like to drop a basket of eggs at the office when you're in town, that would be fine. Bella says your hens' eggs make the best cakes."

He chuckled wryly. "Don't know about that, but I'll pass it on to Janie. It'll please her."

I nodded. "Don't hesitate to send for me if you need me. I'll stop in tomorrow to check on your wife again."

"Thank you."

He shook my hand, then I helped Bella into the motorcar and drove back to our house.

* * *

><p>I continued to contemplate Bella's request that I teach her about medicine. Perhaps she was right that increasing her knowledge would also improve her tolerance. I decided to begin her lessons as soon as possible.<p>

We went to the office after lunch. It was a slow day, with only one patient who simply needed to have his sutures removed. I accomplished this task quickly then bid him good day and returned my attentions to my wife's education.

I was in the process of showing her all of the medications in my pharmacy cabinet. I named each then explained its basic composition and how that affected the human body. Then I told her how each was typically used. She listened intently and made notes in her delicate script. She asked intelligent, perceptive questions, too, which enhanced her understanding. I was not surprised that she proved a very apt student.

By the end of the day, she demonstrated a good understanding of rudimentary pharmacology. Once I had taught her physiology, she would be able to comprehend specifically how the drugs worked. We both felt quite satisfied that our first round of lessons had been a success.

Bella wanted to review her notes after dinner, and she spent the evening poring over them, talking to herself, and repeating back words and phrases subvocally. I found her utterly endearing and watched her with a smile as I read, then later worked out a new composition for my violin.

When she began rubbing her eyes then massaging her temples, I felt she was growing fatigued and asked if she would like to hear my new song. She agreed readily and sat curled on the sofa while I played. She looked lovely in the firelight; her skin seemed to glow. She was extremely enticing, and I thought about the delightful things I would do to her as soon as we got into bed.

My plans were thwarted, however, when I returned from putting away my violin to find her asleep on the couch. With a tiny, inaudible sigh, I lifted her into my arms and carried her upstairs. She barely stirred when I removed her clothes and tucked her into bed.

"Sweet dreams, darling," said, kissing her cheek tenderly.

When we made love next, it would all the sweeter for the anticipation.

* * *

><p>Bella was still sleeping at eight thirty, when little Pearl McMahon knocked shyly at the door. She held a basket of eggs in her hand.<p>

"My mama sent these for you," she said, offering me the basket.

I smiled. "Thank you. That was very generous of her."

Pearl nodded soberly.

"How is your mother feeling this morning?" I asked.

The child's brow furrowed, then her little lip began to quiver as her eyes filled with tears.

I crouched down before her so that I could place a gentle hand upon her shoulder. "What's the matter, Pearl?"

"Is Mama…" She lowered her head, staring at her feet as a sob shook her. Then she looked up at me through watery eyes. "Is my mama going to die?"

"Oh goodness," I replied, lifting her chin so that I could see her face. "Why would you ask that?"

"My baby brother… he died. And he was so white… I snuck back from Mrs. Carter's and saw him on Jamie's bed. And Mama looks so white, too…."

"She was very sick, sweetheart," I said. "It's going to take her a while to get well again."

Despite my reassurances, the child's words concerned me. If Mrs. McMahon remained pale, most likely she had not been eating. It was important for her to build up her strength again. I felt it prudent to check on her before the day progressed.

"How about if I take you back home, and I can be sure she's doing well," I offered.

Pearl nodded, clearly relieved by the offer.

"Let me just leave a note for Mrs. Cullen," I said. "I'll be right back."

I left Pearl in the foyer while I darted upstairs and wrote a brief missive to my wife. Then I took my bag and hat and returned to the waiting child. In spite of her worry for her mother, she was visibly excited to have a chance to ride in the motorcar. After the short drive to her family's farm, her spirits were much lighter.

I spent several minutes with Mrs. McMahon, assessing both her physical and emotional conditions. She told me that she had eaten a second, small portion of stew the previous evening but had not had any food yet today.

"Pearl," I called. The little girl came into the room quickly. I smiled at her. "Would you pour your mama a glass of milk, please?"

She nodded and hurried away, glad to be of assistance. When she returned, she offered the glass to her mother. Her little face wore a very serious, intent expression, which had the intended effect. Mrs. McMahon drank the entire glass of milk.

I walked back to the kitchen with Pearl. "Help your mama remember to eat and have a glass of milk with her lunch and dinner," I prompted gently.

Pearl replied, "I will."

Mr. McMahon thanked me again then walked me out to the automobile. Jamie stood beside the vehicle, eyes wide with interest. I realized that his sister's ride had piqued his curiosity.

"Would you like to get in?" I asked, glancing at his father for approval.

Mr. McMahon gave a brief nod and a small smile of gratitude. Jamie clambered into the motorcar, and I cranked it up as he watched in fascination. I explained in simple terms how the motor worked, then I got in and drove around the property. He was grinning with delight by the time we returned to stop in front of the house. His father helped him out then sent him inside.

"Funeral's going to be tomorrow morning," he told me quietly. "It'll just be family and the Carters. But if you and Mrs. Cullen would come, it would mean a lot to Janie and me."

"Of course," I replied.

When I returned to my house, Bella was up and had just finished bathing. She was brushing out her damp hair.

"How is Mrs. McMahon?" she asked as soon as I stepped into the room.

"She's doing a little better. Pearl is going to encourage her to eat regularly, and I think that will help quite a bit."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Mr. McMahon asked if we'd attend the funeral," I told her. "It will be tomorrow at 9:00."

"Oh…" Bella blinked as tears welled in her eyes. "Yes, I think we should."

"That was my thought, too."

We both felt a bit morose until we stopped at the store to say hello to the Webers. Ben told me there was a letter for us, and our moods improved considerably when we recognized Carlisle's neat hand.

We thanked Ben then hurried to the office to read the letter. Our excitement built as we found that my parents planned to be in Eugene at the end of two weeks' time. They hoped that we might be able to get away for a few days so that we could visit, but they understood if my professional obligations prevented it. They would be glad to call upon us if we could not make the trip to see them.

Knowing that Carlisle and Esme would be only a few hours away elated me. While I found my life in Madras tremendously satisfying, the addition of family as a frequent part of my existence gave me a sense of true completion.

* * *

><p>In between Bella's continued studies and one patient, we spoke eagerly about my parents' move throughout the morning and early afternoon. A second patient arrived shortly before two o'clock. It was the miller, and he had a badly abscessed tooth. Extraction was the only treatment. It was a simple procedure, but there would be some blood involved. I decided quickly that I would anaesthetize the man so that I could work on him alone. I did not wish to subject Bella to another episode of nausea.<p>

I took an ether mask and bottle of the anaesthetic from the cabinet. Bella gave me a quizzical look. She knew what the bottle contained.

"Mr. Anderson," I said, addressing my patient rather than my wife, "I'm going to give you an anaesthetic so that you won't feel a thing when I remove the tooth. It will put you to sleep for a little while."

He nodded; he was in too much pain to question anything I could offer him.

"Edward," Bella questioned softly, "is that necessary?"

We had discussed the uses of ether, all of which typically involved more serious surgery than a tooth extraction. There were, of course, risks associated with this substance. However, Mr. Anderson was in general good health, with no cardiac or pulmonary irregularities, so I felt the chance of any complications was extremely slim.

Still, Bella's expression showed her deep concerns. I gestured for her to follow me out of the room.

"Sweetheart," I said, "there's going to be some minor blood loss when I pull the tooth."

She crossed her arms over her chest, her expression showing ire now. "And you'd risk a man's well-being on the off chance that I might feel a tiny bit queasy? Edward Cullen! Don't you dare!"

"But he's in a great deal of pain," I attempted to defend myself.

She shook her head. "Then give him morphine. But don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

Now I wondered at the prudence of teaching her about medicine…. However, I acquiesced and administered a fairly generous dose of morphine instead. Once Mr. Anderson was drowsy, Bella placed her palm at my back and I quickly slid my hand inside his mouth to remove the tooth. I had no need for dental tools; my fingers were much stronger.

In a moment's time I had performed the extraction and was packing the socket with gauze. When I felt Bella's fingers leave my back, I knew something was wrong. I still had my hand against my patient's cheek, and a dull pain throbbed across my jaw.

"Bella?" I questioned.

"I'm… all right," she managed, but I could hear the change in her heartbeat and breathing. I glanced behind me to see her leaning heavily against the counter, hands gripping the edge for support. She was ashen, and her eyes were half-closed.

"Bella!" I cried softly. I wiped my hands and turned to her.

"Bathroom," she murmured, and I swiftly took her across the room through the open door to the lavatory.

She fell to her knees and retched. The bout did not last long, but she remained pale and shaky for some time afterwards. I helped her to the consulting room and placed her on the bed, instructing her to lie down until I returned.

I checked on Mr. Anderson, who would remain groggy from the morphine for some time, then went back to Bella. She lay upon her side, one hand over her stomach.

"Are you in pain?" I asked with renewed concern. I pressed my fingers lightly over her wrist.

"Just sort of achy," she replied. "The muscles hurt."

I rested my hand over her cheek. Her skin was clammy, but she was not diaphoretic. I stroked her face softly with my fingertips. She was not ready to be exposed to blood again; that much was clear. Why had I not insisted that she remain at home today? I had pushed her too quickly.

"It's not your fault," she said softly. Perhaps my expression had given away my thoughts.

"Yes, it is," I replied. "You need more time—"

"I don't think that's it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What do you mean, love?"

"I…" She took a quick breath. "You're probably right. I suppose it's hard for me to admit to myself that I'm not doing as well with this as I'd hoped."

"Sweetheart, you are doing the very best that you can, and I admire your efforts tremendously. But you need time. I don't want you to push yourself."

She nodded. "All right."

I kissed her cheek. "I'll take Mr. Anderson home, then we'll go home after that."

"Yes… that's fine."

I left her dozing on the bed, and when I returned she was still asleep. I woke her gently then helped her to the motorcar. As we drove past the church, she asked, "Nine o'clock?"

I nodded. "If you feel up to it."

"Of course I will. We should be there." A little spark of determination flared in her eyes—always a good sign for my wife.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	45. Chapter 45

Fortunately cloud cover remained throughout the night and into the morning, so attending the funeral presented no pragmatic issues for me. The service for the McMahon baby was a simple graveside ceremony in the small cemetery behind the church, but Reverend Joseph conducted it respectfully and compassionately. Mrs. McMahon remained pale, but she stood by the grave on steady legs.

Afterward everyone exchanged a few words of sympathy, then we parted. We had brought the buggy this morning; Stanley still enjoyed an occasional jaunt, and we felt it best to arrive as unobtrusively as possible. We were near the buggy when Bella suddenly faltered. I caught her arm and steadied her.

"Darling?" I asked.

The color had drained from her face, and she clutched at my arms. "Dizzy," she muttered.

I lifted her and carried her to the buggy. "Are you nauseated, too?"

She nodded. "A little."

I thought back quickly. Had there been any hint of blood among the guests? I had smelled nothing. What had precipitated this attack? Was it simply the memory of Mrs. McMahon's terrible ordeal?

Bella bent forward, arms wrapped around her abdomen. She was trying to take slow, deep breaths, but I could tell that she remained ill. I slid my hand inside her collar to feel the pulse at her neck. It was slightly thready.

I waited until her breathing became steadier, then I asked, "Were you thinking about Mrs. McMahon?"

She shook her head. "No… I mean not in the way you're asking. I still feel very sad for her, but…no, I don't think that's what caused this."

"Do you have any idea what did?"

She compressed her lips and looked down at her hands. "No."

There was something she was not telling me. "Bella, what is it?"

"I was dizzy…"

"Did you feel faint?"

She nodded minutely.

I realized this was a new occurrence. She had shown no signs of impending syncope during her other attacks.

"It happened another time, too," she said, still focusing upon her hands.

I lifted her chin. "When, Bella?"

"Yesterday morning, while you were at the McMahons' farm. Right after I got up, I almost fainted."

My eyebrows pulled together. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you. I didn't think it was anything, really, but I felt the same way yesterday afternoon in the office, and then again just now."

I tried to remain calm, but it was difficult. The realization that Bella was not simply reacting to blood was crashing over me.

"Is there anything else?" I asked, already beginning a frantic review of my recent memories.

"I've felt tired," she admitted. "I can hardly drag myself out of bed in the morning. And I'm sort of achy, but not all the time."

"Any place in particular?"

"My stomach and back."

"Anything else?"

She sighed. "Sometimes I feel a little warm."

I nodded, more curtly than I intended, and took the reins. I urged Stanley forward at a rapid clip. Bella slid her hand into mine and held it tightly.

"Aren't we going home?" she asked as I drove the horse into town.

"No. We're going to the office."

She understood why. "Oh," she responded softly. "I don't think that's really necessary."

"Yes, it is," I retorted quickly.

I was still reviewing the past few days for any symptoms she had failed to mention. Yesterday she had hinted that Mr. Anderson's blood had not been the cause of her nausea. I berated myself for failing to question her about that, then my thoughts shifted quickly to the list of symptoms I had compiled. Persistent, intermittent nausea; mild abdominal and back pain; possible fever, though I would have to check for that; fatigue; vertigo and/or syncope…

I had been an utter fool. Why had I not seen this sooner? How long had Bella been ill? When had it truly begun? I had attributed her minor maladies to other causes—the same illness Angela and Rosemary had, reaction to blood—but now I realized it was something more.

Bella did not say anything as we drove through town. I leaped from the buggy and tied Stanley to the post in front of the office, then I helped her down, keeping my arm around her in case she still felt unsteady on her feet.

"Edward, I'm sorry," she said as I unlocked the door.

"I know," I replied. "I'm not upset with you. I'm angry at myself. I should have realized something was the matter. Poor excuse for a physician I am…"

"Don't say that," she protested weakly. "You're a brilliant doctor. I shouldn't have tried to keep this from you."

"No, you shouldn't have," I agreed. I locked the door behind us then quickly escorted her to the examination room.

I lifted her onto the table before removing her hat. Then I rested my hand against her cheek. She always felt warm to me, and I suppose I had become somewhat inured to her natural body heat. Was she slightly feverish? My judgment seemed clouded; I could not tell.

I took a thermometer from the drawer and slipped it under her tongue. While it registered, I gently inspected her eyelids for any signs of anemia. Then I unbuttoned her blouse and felt her axillary lymph nodes. There was no enlargement, which gave me a small measure of relief. I removed the thermometer and found that her temperature was 98.8. Two-tenths of a degree was hardly a raging fever, but it indicated that her body was fighting an infection somewhere.

I check the nodes in her neck, again finding no swelling, then unfastened her skirt and helped her to lie back. I suspected that she might have chronic appendicitis. All of the symptoms fit.

"I need to check you abdomen," I told her. "Please tell me if you feel any tenderness or pain."

She nodded, and I began probing gently, working systematically over the quadrants. She exhibited no indications of discomfort, even when I applied light pressure to McBurney's point. She demonstrated no guarding or rebound tenderness, either. I began to feel perplexed; this diagnosis had seemed quite likely. I probed her abdomen higher, feeling the edge of her liver. It was perfectly healthy.

I shifted Bella onto her side so that I could check for any pain or tenderness over her kidneys. Again there was nothing.

"Well?" she asked when I stepped back slightly and pinched the bridge of my nose.

I looked up at her anxious face then reached for her hand. "I can't find anything wrong," I told her. "I thought it could be appendicitis, but you have none of the signs. Your liver and kidneys feel fine, too, and there's no swelling in any of your lymph nodes. But you have a low-grade fever, and of course there's the nausea, dizziness, and fatigue." I raked a hand through my hair. "I don't know what it is, Bella."

"It's probably just some little thing that will pass soon. It just needs to run its course…"

"But for how long?"

"I don't know."

"Nor do I."

She began buttoning her blouse. "Can we go home now?"

I nodded. "I suppose so. If you aren't feeling better in a day or two, I'll draw some blood."

I could check her white corpuscle count beneath my microscope. I dreaded to think that she might have leukaemia or another blood disease, but it was a possibility.

"All right, whatever you think is best."

"What I think is best right now is for us to go home, where you can rest. Sleep is probably the wisest course of treatment at the moment."

Within an hour's time, I had tucked her into bed, where she soon fell asleep. I sat beside her, listening to her heart and lungs and watching her as if I could suddenly see the cause of her ailment. The soft skin beneath her eyes appeared slightly dark; she truly was tired. How long had she looked like this? Again I castigated myself for failing to notice.

I spent a long time with her hand in mine, my fingers resting over the pulse point, counting each beat. It was strong and steady now. Yet clearly my wife was ill. I wished Carlisle were here. Surely he would be able to pinpoint her disease. Perhaps I should wire him and ask that he come as soon as possible. I felt certain he would not hesitate if he knew Bella was sick.

I tried to imagine what he would say as he diagnosed her. I recalled a similar case we had seen shortly before my own illness incapacitated me. I could still hear his voice in my mind: _Twenty-three old woman, married, complaining of minor abdominal discomfort, lower back pain, intermittent nausea and emesis, several recent episodes of syncope; general sense of malaise… _

Her diagnosis had been a simple one. I smiled at the memory. We had given the woman the happy news that she was with child. If only I could impart such joyful information to Bella, but I knew such a thing was impossible.

And yet… I drew a sharp breath. All the signs were there. The diagnosis fit perfectly. I thought back quickly and realized that Bella's last menstrual period had begun forty-one days ago, on the final day of our honeymoon. Her cycles had been very regular since I had known her; she was now nine days late. Why had I not noticed this? Granted, there could be a number of reasons for such a delay, including physical or emotional stress. But pregnancy was the most likely culprit.

I leaned in to inhale deeply and carefully. Her scent was, as always, intoxicating. Over the months, I had conditioned myself to her gorgeous fragrance, allowing it to swirl about me without affecting me as strongly as it once had. In doing this, however, I realized I had ignored the subtle changes her monthly cycles caused. Now I consciously analyzed her scent. It was heavier, muskier, saturated with hormones. With a slight shock, I realized that her aroma had never been quite this intense before, even in the days of her cycle when hormone levels were highest.

Still, my mind resisted the diagnosis. There were additional signs; did she exhibit any of these? I reviewed everything I knew about pregnancy. There would be small changes in her body, changes that my enhanced eyesight could detect if I were looking.

In truth, I had not viewed Bella's entire body in full daylight in over a week, as our intimate moments had taken place at night recently. While I could see quite well in darkness, subtle shades were less obvious in the absence of light. I needed to see Bella in full light now. Afternoon sunshine filtered softly through the curtains, illuminating the room well.

Carefully I unbuttoned my wife's blouse and pulled it aside. She was used to my cool touch and did not stir as I slid my hands inside her camisole to cup her breasts lightly. I could recall with perfect clarity how they had felt the first time I touched them. They were definitely a bit larger now. Why had I failed to notice this in recent days?

With a controlled exhalation, I pushed aside the fabric to gaze down at her. In the the bright light, I could see that the shell pink of her areola had deepened to a slightly duskier shade. These changes, combined with her other symptoms, were unmistakable signs.

My hands shook as I adjusted Bella's camisole and pulled the blanket over her again. There was no other explanation for her condition: Bella was pregnant.

My mind twisted back to the long minutes after the Webers brought her back from Bend. She had sat here, on this bed, and I had knelt before her. I had seen the bruise on her thigh, and I had noticed the way her hands gripped the robe tightly to cover the lower half of her body. But I had not wanted to acknowledge what these two facts really meant. I had been a blind fool. I should have looked further. I should have seen the truth.

There was only one way pregnancy could be possible for my wife. Bella had been raped by the monster in the alley, and now she was carrying his child.

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> _Congratulations to all of the readers who guessed that Bella could be pregnant! If only Edward had been as perceptive as you… Now I am going to hide until it's time to post the next chapter tomorrow!  
><em>


	46. Chapter 46

My first instinct was to hunt down the brute and kill him. I had not felt the urge to take a human life since the days immediately following my change. Even then, the desire had been for human blood; it had not been an urge to kill. But now I wanted to find the reprobate, to tear him limb from limb. I cared nothing about his vile blood; I only wished to inflict unbearable pain upon him, as he had so surely done to my wife. Punishment was not enough; he deserved a torturous death.

My hands were clenched into tight fists, my entire body taut with barely suppressed rage. My eyes darted around the room. If I could find the clothing Bella had worn that day, I could get the degenerate's scent. If he were still in Bend, I could track him, hunt him down…

Nostrils flaring, I stood. Bella kept a basket for clothes needing mending in the closet. If she had not disposed of the clothes, they would be in there. I took a step away from the bed, and then she gave a little sigh.

I froze, my gaze moving to her face. Her brow was lightly creased, and her cheeks appeared slightly flushed. Automatically I reached out to brush my fingers over her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered, but she did not wake.

"Sshh, just rest love," I whispered.

Her facial features relaxed, and her breathing became more even. She looked exquisite. Her skin was so soft, her hair thick and glossy. She was perfection. And beneath her physical beauty was a kind, good soul. What would she think of me if I killed a man in cold blood? Would she even want revenge?

I sank down on the floor beside her, my fingers twined softly in her hair. I would not act rashly. However, if she desired it, I would not hesitate to see that her attacker was punished in whatever way she wished.

My thoughts calmed somewhat as I watched her. The steady rhythm of her heart soothed me and allowed my mind to focus more fully. I thought back to that terrible day once again.

Why had she not told me what the blackguard had done to her? Had she feared my reaction? Or had she repressed the incident? The human mind was capable of burying horrific memories to protect itself. Did she know on a conscious level what had happened to her?

It was possible that her concussion had caused anterograde amnesia, preventing formation of memories immediately succeeding the injury. She might have lost several minutes, during which anything could have happened to her. But surely she would know she had been assaulted. Such attacks were almost always brutal; any man savage enough to assault a woman in an alleyway would not be gentle.

She had bathed as soon as she returned home. Was this to wash away the evidence of the rape, to erase it from her body and mind? The warm water would have eased some of the discomfort, too. At some level, Bella must have known what he had done to her.

My hands clenched again as I realized that pregnancy was not the only possible result of such an attack. I would need to watch for any evidence of infections or diseases he could have transmitted to her. My stomach turned at the thought as images of similarly afflicted patients I had treated flashed through my mind.

I lowered my head to my hands. The entire situation was abysmal. If he had made her ill, that would only compound the trauma for her. It could lead to other complications, as well, if she wished to terminate the pregnancy, as I imagined she would. I cared nothing about the legality of performing the procedure; I would do anything for Bella.

The first issue to be dealt with, however, was telling her that she was carrying that monster's child. I had no idea how to impart this dreadful news to her. I sat motionless upon the floor until she woke.

"Mmm, Edward," she said with a small smile. "Have you been here all this time?"

I nodded woodenly and muttered, "I like watching you sleep."

"I know you do." She reached out to caress my cheek with her warm hand. "What time is it?"

"Four," I replied.

"Oh! I slept for over three hours! I didn't mean to do that."

"You needed the rest."

She nodded. "I suppose I did. I feel a lot better now."

"Do you?" I tried to return her smile. "I'm glad to hear that."

"I'm really hungry," she informed me. "I'm going to make some lunch—or maybe supper at this point."

She sat up, and I helped her out of bed. Her legs were steady at the moment, and her complexion was rosy. She looked happy.

"I think you were right about rest helping," she said as we walked downstairs. "I really do feel good now. Perhaps whatever it was is passing."

I swallowed reflexively. "Perhaps…" But I knew this ailment would not pass for many months without intervention.

* * *

><p>I began to tell Bella about her pregnancy several times that evening, but I could never quite get the words out. She was in a cheerful mood, probably in part to try to coax me from my simmering despondency.<p>

"I really am feeling good, Edward," she told me more than once. "Please don't worry so."

By the time she climbed into bed again, I had still not found the right words to say. I stretched out beside her, and she turned to kiss me. Her scent deepened and sweetened, and I realized with a little jolt of surprise that she was becoming aroused.

However, physical intimacy was the furthest thing from my mind at the moment. I kissed her cheek chastely then told her she should get a good night's sleep. She was clearly disappointed by my gentle rebuff, but she said nothing. She merely rolled over and told me good night.

She fell asleep quickly. My hand slid down over her hip then came to rest very lightly upon her abdomen. After a few seconds I pulled it away. My gaze wandered over the room as I thought of all the happiness we had shared here. How unfair that it should be so ephemeral, so fleeting… How long would we need to return to our bliss? Would it even be possible?

I noticed Bella's crochet work on the dresser. She had told me that she was making a little bonnet for Rosemary. For a few moments my thoughts wandered unbidden to memories of her holding the baby, smiling and laughing as she kissed the infant's tiny hands and feet. Despite her claims to the contrary, she adored children, and I knew she would be a marvelous mother.

I blinked as the thought hit me. This terrible occurrence, this thing that I had perceived as a tragedy, might be a blessing in disguise. This was Bella's chance to have a child. While it was conceived in cruelty, I knew she would raise it in absolute love.

Suddenly the night did not seem so dark, or the future so bleak. I rested my head on the pillow and waited until morning, when I would tell my wife that she was going to become a mother—if she wished.

* * *

><p>Bella was light-headed when she got out of bed, but I did not panic. Instead I helped her to sit down again and kept my arms around her until the dizziness passed. She seemed disappointed in her body's reaction; I knew she had hoped to be well today. It was time to tell her what was happening to her.<p>

I waited until she had used the bathroom, then I asked her to come back to bed for a few minutes. Sitting against the headboard, I embraced her and said, "Darling, I've figured out what's been making you feel so ill."

She looked up at me. "You have?"

I nodded somberly. "Yes. I should have realized it sooner, and I'm sorry about that. It's just that… well, it honestly didn't occur to me."

"What is it?"

Rather than replying to her query directly, I began sympathetically, "Sweetheart, I know what happened in Bend that Saturday—I mean _everything_ that happened."

She nodded. "Yes, I know. I told you—"

Softly I interjected, "You told me what you remembered at the time. But love, sometimes with a head injury there is some memory loss during the moments either immediately preceding or immediately following the incident. You were unconscious for a little while, weren't you?"

"For a few seconds…"

"It was longer than that."

Her lovely brow furrowed. "It might have been a minute, but not much more."

"It was long enough for something terrible to happen," I said gently, working to keep my tone quiet and calm, "for that brute to do something unconscionable to you."

Now she frowned at me. "What do you mean?"

I took a breath. "Darling, I know what he did to you. I know how he… violated you."

Her eyes widened, and she paled. "Edward—" Her breath left her in a little rush.

I took her hands in mine. "Bella, the reason you've been feeling so poorly—the reason for the dizziness, the nausea, the fatigue and aches—is a very natural one." I waited a few moments to see if she would understand, but she simply continued to stare at me. "My love," I said, trying to pour every ounce of my adoration into those two words, "you are with child."

She gasped. "With… child?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "Are you… are you saying I'm _pregnant_?"

I nodded. "Yes, you most definitely are."

"And you think…" Now she drew a breath, and she pulled her hands out of mine. "You think that man, that horrible, vile man, did… that to me? You think he… he _raped_ me and left me with a child?" Her hands were shaking, and she was bone-white.

"It's all right," I tried to assuage her. "Bella, darling, if you don't want to carry it, you don't have to. I will take care of you and do whatever you wish. But if you do decide to bear the child, I promise that I will love it as my own—"

She gripped my hands fiercely. "My God, Edward, it _is_ your own!"

"Sweetheart, no—" She was obviously in shock and not thinking clearly. "That's impossible."

"But he didn't do that to me," she said insistently. "I swear he didn't. And I do remember what happened. I know I was only unconscious for a few moments."

I pulled her into my arms again. "Sometimes when something is too terrible to remember, the mind suppresses it."

"And does the body, too?" she asked. "Because I'm sure I would know if he had done what you're suggesting. Don't you think I would have felt it afterward?"

"I'm not sure. You were in shock, love, and that can cause a numbing effect, blocking physical pain."

Her eyes began to fill with tears. "You don't believe me," she said, looking away.

"Of course I do. I believe that you don't remember, and I understand why—"

The tears flowed down her cheeks. "How can I convince you?" she asked, choking back a sob.

She allowed me kiss her forehead, but she was stiff in my arms. "Sssh. Let's not talk about this now. We don't have to make any decisions right away."

She closed her eyes and slid down to curl onto her side. I rubbed softly at her back as she continued to cry quietly. Eventually she seemed to slip back into slumber, but she remained pale and chilled. I pulled the blankets over her and kissed her cheek. She looked so fragile, so broken. If I could cry, I certainly would have, too.

* * *

><p>Bella was quiet for the remainder of the day. She ate little, and her color did not improve. After a small lunch of a slice of ham and a piece of bread, she because nauseated and vomited.<p>

I tried to comfort her, to speak consolingly to her, but it seemed my words did nothing to ease her physical and psychological distress. Several times her eyes filled with tears anew when she looked at me, and I knew she was hurt that I could not believe her.

I attempted to apologize, to explain again the effects of shock and head injury, but these phrases fell upon deaf ears. She simply wiped at her eyes and lowered her head sadly.

She managed to keep down her supper, but her appetite was still lacking. She went to bed early, and when I came to lie beside her, she rolled away from me. I did not move, remaining where I lay but making no attempt to touch her, much as I longed to. As soon as she fell asleep, however, I rested my hand against her back so that I could feel the gentle beating of her heart.

I listened to the soft, rhythmic thumping all night long. It lulled me into something like slumber, although of course I could not sleep. But I lay still, my eyes closed, and thought of nothing but the sound of her precious heart.

As dawn approached, I almost thought that I had fallen asleep. It seemed that I was dreaming, or doing something quite close. I could still hear the lovely beating of Bella's heart—_lub dub, lub dub_—but beneath it, nearly masked by the sounds of her breathing and that wonderful beat, was another subtle pulsing. I realized I was imagining the fetus's heartbeat.

I opened my eyes to dash the daydream from my mind. But as I settled back and quieted, I could still hear it. Was it my imagination? Was my mind playing tricks on me? Surely it was.

I sat up then shifted so that I could lightly rest my ear over Bella's abdomen. I heard the nearly imperceptible little flutter. But that was impossible. She was less than three weeks' pregnant; a fetal heartbeat would not be perceptible to my ears until the sixth week, at the earliest.

I darted downstairs to pull my stethoscope from my bag then returned to stand over my wife. With slightly trembling hands, I adjusted the earpieces then pressed the bell over her womb. Yes, the fetus's heart was most definitely beating.

"Edward?" Bella asked sleepily. "What are you doing?"

She was awake, and she was watching me curiously.

I was scarcely able to speak. "Bella… it's… I don't know how it's possible… but the baby's heart is beating."

"Oh!" A small smile crept over her lips. "That's good, right?"

I nodded slowly. "Yes… But darling, the heart doesn't begin to beat until six weeks' gestation, at the earliest…"

"So that means I'm at least six weeks' pregnant," she finished softly.

"Yes…" I pulled the stethoscope from my ears and dropped it to the bed. Bella launched herself into my arms, laughing and crying at the same time.

"I told you, Edward!" she said. "I told you that it was your baby."

Now it was my turn to be in absolute shock. It was impossible… I could not be a father… But the faint yet steady beat of my child's minuscule heart clearly proved otherwise.

I held Bella for a long time, then she kissed me, pulling me from my near stupor. Her lips were warm, but the tears had cooled upon her cheeks. I brushed them away, a smile forming on my lips. I was still utterly stunned, but the proof was irrefutable. She was carrying my child.

"You're happy?" she asked, tracing her finger over my mouth.

I nodded. "Yes, darling, I am. I'm just, well, I think I'm still in a bit of shock. I can scarcely believe it. I thought it was impossible."

"Because your body never changes, right?"

"Yes. I cannot produce spermatozoa…"

"Then they must have already been there. They must have remained from the time when you were human."

"I don't know." I considered this. I could think of no other explanation. "Perhaps."

Bella's hand moved to her abdomen, fingers splaying out. "It's incredible," she whispered. "When will I start to feel it?"

"Your body is already well aware of what's happening," I told her, setting my hand over hers. "There are many changes occurring inside, but you probably won't begin showing for another month, at least, and then only a little. And you won't feel the baby move until twenty to twenty-one weeks."

"Oh."

I slid my hand beneath hers, pressing gently over her soft skin. I could perceive no significant changes, either, but the tiny heartbeat flickered in my ears.

"Edward," Bella said, the excitement draining from her tone. "Are you sure it happened six weeks ago?"

I gave her a nod. "Possibly seven… most likely during the first day or two of our honeymoon."

She shook her head. "But that's not right."

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" She was clearly concerned about something.

"I had my monthly cycle at the end of our trip. Recently Angela mentioned that I would know I was pregnant if it stopped. So I don't think I can be as far along as you're saying."

She had raised a valid issue. However, for once I was less worried than she was. I explained, "It's not uncommon for there to be some minor bleeding when the fertilized egg implants in the uterine lining. That typically occurs nine or ten days after fertilization, which would have been during the final days of our stay on the coast."

"But I had some cramps, too," she said quietly. She had grown pale.

"That can happen, too."

"So it doesn't mean that anything's… wrong?"

"No, love, not at all."

She relaxed at this statement. However, my words belied my own burgeoning concern. Her question led my mind in a new and disturbing direction. If she had indeed menstruated over a month ago, that would mean that conception had occurred within the last two weeks.

I did not doubt that I was the father; rather, I fretted over the timing. If she had conceived only two weeks ago, then the fetus' development was abnormal—it was accelerated. Was it possible that, while my body had retained some sperm, it had somehow mutated and acquired my preternatural characteristics, just as the rest of my cells had?

Bella could sense my worry. "What's the matter?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Probably nothing. Was your last cycle different than usual in any way?"

She blushed slightly. "It was lighter."

"And it didn't last as long, did it?"

I wondered now why I had not questioned this at the time. I was a bit ashamed to admit that I had been glad for the slightly shortened duration because it meant that I could be intimate with her sooner.

She nodded. "It only lasted four days, and barely that. You know it's normally five."

This information did not fully assuage my fears, but it gave me evidence to support my theory that she had experienced implantation bleeding rather than menses. Still, I would need to observe her very closely for the next several weeks to determine whether or not the fetus was developing normally. I wanted to consult with Carlisle, too. While there was no precedent for such a pregnancy, his knowledge and wisdom were unparalleled. I felt quite grateful that he and Esme would arrive in Eugene soon.

"Something's still troubling you," Bella said, laying her hand over my cheek. "Tell me, Edward."

I began to shake my head, but she lifted her other hand to my face to hold me still.

"Please, I need you to be honest with me," she entreated gently. "This isn't the time to keep anything from me."

She was right, of course. We had both suffered when I believed she had not been honest with me. Yet I feared the effects anxiety could have upon her. If she understood my fears, she would certainly begin to share them. I leaned forward to kiss her lips softly before I spoke, allowing myself a few moments to gather my thoughts.

I drew back and took her hands in mine. "Given my nature, I'm just wondering if it will affect the child in any way."

She tilted her head slightly. "Edward, are you afraid you'll hurt it? That's ridiculous. You're the gentlest soul I know—"

"No, love, that's not it. I think your theory about my body retaining some vestiges of my human cells is correct. But there could be a chance—a slim one, I'm sure—that those cells were altered in some way when I changed. If they were, I don't know what it would mean for the baby's development."

"So you think it might be like you? It might be a vampire?"

I nodded tentatively. "Not entirely… the basic laws of genetics preclude that, or at least I think they do. But there could be elements of my make-up…"

"I can't imagine that's the case," she replied. She was calm now, with a steady heartbeat. "That doesn't make sense. I don't know as much about genetics as you do, but I did study biology during my first term at college, and I know that different species can't cross-breed. And human as you are in emotion and affection, your body is most definitely of a different species than mine. I think the fact that I conceived is proof that a tiny remnant of your physical humanity remained."

She sounded very confident. Her words made sense, and I wanted to believe them absolutely. Still, doubts remained in my mind. However, I vowed that I would not share them with her unless I had cause to do so.

"You're probably right, darling," I agreed, keeping my voice as positive as possible. "That really does make the most sense."

"Of course it does." She smiled happily.

But I knew that Bella's and my relationship—our love, our affection, our marriage—made absolutely no sense in the realm of the supernatural world in which my kind existed. Would this bizarre amalgamation carry over into our child? I supposed that only time would tell.

"You asked me to be honest with you," I said after a few seconds. "Now I'd like the same from you. Sweetheart, you must tell me everything you're feeling—aches, pains, nausea, anything at all. Will you promise to do that?"

"You are a worrywart," she replied with a slight grin. "But I adore you for it. Yes, I'll give you every detail if you really want."

"I do."

She sighed. "All right, detail number one. I need to use the bathroom again—and I definitely have to go more than I used to."

She climbed out of bed and made her way across the room, pausing at the doorway to look back at me.

"I love you, Edward," she said. "I am the happiest woman in the world."

"I'm glad," I responded, forcing my mouth to move into a smile until she had left the room. Then my expression sobered as doubts weighed down upon me once again.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

**_Note:_** I apologize for not responding to many of the reviews for the previous chapter. Given the revelation here, I wasn't sure what to say. I hope you will forgive me. I will do better in the future!


	47. Chapter 47

Bella ate a hearty breakfast and only suffered a slight bout of nausea afterward. She did not become ill, which pleased both of us. She had lost several pounds over the past week or so, and I did not wish her to lose any more.

She glowed with joy, but she remained fatigued. When she agreed to a nap after lunch, I tucked her into bed then waited until she fell asleep. I slipped from the house and, keeping to the shelter of the trees, ran to town. Once there, I walked briskly to the telegraph office. The operator lived upstairs; he was a good-hearted fellow who never minded being summoned during the night or on a Sunday if someone needed to send or receive a wire. I had treated him for a painful rash several weeks prior, so he and I were acquainted.

I knocked at the door and waited until he answered. Tipping my hat, I said, "I'm so sorry to bother you, Abe, but I need to wire my father in St. Paul."

He nodded. "Sure, Dr. Cullen."

He opened the door to admit me then situated himself at the telegraph. After he sent the address, he asked what I wished to say. I knew he was conscientious about keeping messages confidential, but I still hesitated to reveal too much.

I decided to keep the communication vague while still impressing a minor urgency upon Carlisle. "Please stop in Madras before Eugene. Need consult."

I felt certain that he would understand that I required his professional assistance in some way. Abe sent the wire then asked if I wanted to wait for a reply. I checked my watch. I had been gone only ten minutes. I decided I could stay away for a while longer. Bella would likely sleep for at least an hour.

I asked about Abe's rash, and he told me it had healed fully with the help of the salve I gave him. He inquired about Bella, who I knew he found charming.

"She's fine," I replied, wondering at the truthfulness of my statement. "She's at home today, doing some gardening and sewing."

"Please give her my regards."

We chatted amiably for about fifteen minutes, when the transmitter begin to tap out a new message. I was well-versed in Morse code and did not require a translation from Abe. However, I waited patiently while he transcribed the words.

_Message undeliverable. House deserted._

Carlisle and Esme had already departed the city. I had hoped to catch them before they left, but I knew there was a chance I'd be too late. They planned to drive their new motorcar across the country, traveling at a leisurely pace. Their possessions would be shipped by freight wagon; they intended to arrive in Eugene a day or so ahead of their things.

I was disappointed, but I thanked Abe and, despite his protests, insisted he accept payment for his services. I returned home as quickly as possible. Bella was still sleeping, so I stretched out beside her, inhaling her succulent fragrance and listening to the beating of two hearts.

* * *

><p>Bella insisted that she would accompany me to the office as usual on Monday morning. While I would much have preferred that she remain at home and rest, there was a larger issue involved. I faced a vexing dilemma. It was not possible for me to work without her assistance, yet I knew that having her by my side presented risks to her and the baby.<p>

The first, of course, involved her reaction to blood. An episode of syncope could deprive both her and the fetus of oxygen temporarily. Even if she did not faint, she would experience nausea, and with the increased sensitivity of her stomach, she would likely vomit. I was already concerned about her weight; she needed to eat frequently and digest all of her food completely.

The second danger lay in her potential exposure to diseases. What if she contracted an illness from a patient we were treating? There was an increased risk of miscarriage when the mother was ill. Some diseases, such as streptococcal infections, could cause harm to the baby even if it were carried to term.

I had promised to be honest with Bella, so I shared my concerns with her. When I had finished, I said, "While I care about my patients, my first responsibility—my priority—is you, love."

"I appreciate that," she replied with a small smile. "But you can't abandon the town for the next seven months. They need you; they've come to rely upon you. Look at Mrs. McMahon. What if you hadn't been able to help her? Would she have survived?"

"I don't know…"

"Let's just take this one patient at a time," she suggested, her voice calm and reasonable. "If you feel someone is ill and could endanger me, I'll stay out of the room if you promise me that you'll keep yourself safe. And if there will be blood involved in treatment, I can remain seated while you work."

"But you'll still become nauseated," I reminded her.

"I might. But you told me I would probably do better if I ate six or seven small meals each day. I'll start doing that, and I think it will help."

"Bella, I'm not sure…"

"I know. Neither am I. But please, let's try, at least for a little while. If it doesn't go well, we can rethink things. All right?"

Her quiet persuasion and gentle determination won out. Reluctantly I agreed, with one stipulation.

"It's best to wait a few more weeks before you share the news of your pregnancy with anyone," I said.

This would give me time to determine if the fetus's growth and development were normal and to observe how Bella's body was reacting. Additionally, I anticipated Carlisle's and Esme's arrival in Eugene within a week's time, at which point I would wire them and ask that they to come to Madras as soon as possible. I wanted Carlisle's expert opinion about Bella's condition before anyone outside our small family was informed about the pregnancy. If anything about it was abnormal, I would not risk her health; I would not allow the pregnancy to continue. If this worst-case scenario should come to pass, however, I knew would need my father's assistance, both professionally and personally.

"Not even Angela?" she asked.

"No, love, not even her. You must trust me on this."

She nodded. "All right."

"Thank you." I kissed her, gently at first, but she responded with a deeper, passionate kiss.

"We should get to the office," she said when we finally separated; she was a little breathless. She gave me a charmingly coy grin. "Unless we both want to claim sickness and spend the day in bed." Her fingers trailed over my hips.

Her scent was rich and deep, and my body reacted quickly. "Bella Cullen, you will be the death of me," I groaned as she ran her hand over the inside of my thigh.

She laughed. "I think I'm glad that's impossible."

"Petite mort," I arched an eyebrow at her and murmured before kissing her throat.

"Indeed," she agreed rather huskily.

She pressed her body to mine, and I knew that, just for today, we would open the office late. But I didn't mind. It meant that Bella would be safe in my arms, and that was the only place I ever wanted her to be.

* * *

><p>Our morning activity left Bella unusually energized. I had secretly hoped it might tire her and she would decide to remain at home. But my wonderful wife seemed more energetic than she had in several days. This was encouraging, actually; perhaps she was getting past the nausea and fatigue that accompanied the first trimester.<p>

I had almost permitted myself to smile at this thought when I realized that, if she had conceived during our honeymoon, she was at most seven weeks pregnant. The fear that the child's growth was atypical in some way returned to gnaw at me.

Bella mistook the crease between my brows as a sign of worry about the day's work. She embraced me and told me that she felt quite good and was certain she would be fine. I tried to smile, but it felt wooden to me. Still, her heartbeat was strong and steady, and her cheeks were rosy; she appeared quite healthy. I tried to push the concerns from my mind so that I could focus upon keeping her well throughout the day.

Mrs. Withers was our first patient. The usually implacable woman was distressed by sudden changes in her vision. She had begun seeing halos around objects and felt that colors did not look as bright. I examined her eyes and listened to her heart, Bella's quiet presence always at my side.

Mrs. Withers was developing digitalis toxicity, a potentially serious complication of her treatment. Additionally, she was dehydrated, which only exacerbated the situation. She admitted that she had been consuming minimal amounts of fluids, believing that they caused her hands and feet to swell. I corrected this misassumption as kindly as I could, shifting to a slightly firmer tone when I admonished her to drink at least six small glasses of water each day.

"I'm going to stop by your house in the morning to see how you're doing," I told her. "But if you feel any worse before then, send for me immediately."

She nodded. "I will. Thank you, Dr. Cullen."

Bella helped her with her hat. Mrs. Withers' usual cheer began to return in my wife's gentle, compassionate presence.

"You're looking well, Bella," she commented.

"Thank you, Mrs. Withers," Bella replied with a soft smile.

"You've been a bit peaked lately…" Mrs. Withers arched an eyebrow. "I was worried you were _under the weather_."

"I had a touch of something," Bella said, trying to sound unruffled. I could hear her heart accelerate, though. She added, "Angela and Rosemary had it, too."

"Ah, I see. Well, you be sure to take care of yourself." She looked up at me and winked. "And you, Dr. Cullen, don't let her work too hard. But I'm sure I don't need to tell _you_ that. You're the doctor, after all."

It was clear from her tone and expression that Mrs. Withers suspected that Bella was pregnant. However, I simply nodded and said, "Yes. And as _your_ doctor, I want to remind you: six small glasses of water each day, starting when you get home. Take care, Mrs. Withers."

I helped her from the examination table and walked with her to the waiting room, my hand at her elbow to support her. Her daughter-in-law was waiting for her. I bid them a good morning and returned to Bella, who had remained in the exam room.

"She knows," she said the moment she saw me.

I nodded. "She suspects. But don't worry about it, darling. She has enough discretion to keep her suspicions to herself."

Bella's brow creased. "Is it that obvious?"

"No, love. You don't look any different. Mrs. Withers has a great deal of experience with pregnancy so is more attuned to the signs. Even so, she doesn't know for sure. She's basing her guess on a couple of common symptoms, but a hint of paleness and some nausea could be caused by any number of things."

"Still, it will be nice when we can tell people," she said a bit wistfully.

"I know you're eager to share the news, but it really is best to wait."

Suddenly she blanched. "Are you worried something will happen? Did you notice some sign that there might be something wrong?" Her eyes filled with tears.

I wrapped her in my arms. "Sshh. Please don't cry, darling. No, as far as I can tell, both you and the baby are perfectly healthy—"

"Angela and Ben lost their first baby," she said.

"I know," I replied gently. "That happens sometimes, and it's most common during the first twelve weeks."

"And what about Mrs. McMahon? Could that happen to me?"

"It's unlikely…" I hedged.

"What are the chances?" She pressed her face against my chest to muffle a sob.

I stroked her back. "Please don't worry about it, Bella. The best thing you can do is remain calm and pay attention to your body. When you feel tired, rest; when you feel hungry, eat—"

"And tell you if I feel anything else," she added.

"Yes." I kissed her hair. "Why don't I close the office for the rest of the day. We can go home and relax for the afternoon."

"No, you don't need to do that. I'm all right." She wiped at her eyes then offered me an apologetic little grin. "I feel like I cry at the drop of a hat."

I smiled in return. "The hormones your body is producing affect emotions."

She nodded. "I think we should continue our lessons, and we should begin with pregnancy. I want you to teach me about what's happening and what's going to happen to my body."

I did not reply immediately. I feared that too much information would only make Bella worry more. However, I realized that if I provided the instruction, I could present the facts in as positive a way as possible. If she were to consult one of my texts, she might find information that would distress her.

So I agreed, and we spent the next hour studying several illustrations as I explained what she should expect.

"It seems like things are progressing as they should," she commented.

I gave a hesitant nod. "Yes…"

Now she would know if something were amiss in the baby's development. While I dreaded how she would react to such news, I hoped her new knowledge would help her to cope if anything should happen. I prayed it would soften the blow if I had to tell her that the pregnancy was abnormal and was harming her.

Once again I found Bella an apt pupil, quick to understand and absorb new information. Of course she was particularly fascinated by our current topic, which clearly enhanced her comprehension.

I ended the lesson just after 11:00, when I heard her stomach rumbling. She ate half of a sandwich, and we were both pleased that she did not become queasy afterward. The afternoon passed easily with two more patients—neither of whom presented any significant risk to Bella—and a return to our earlier lessons about medicines.

Bella was tired when we got home, but I did not sense the deep exhaustion that had often plagued her over the past few weeks. We spent a pleasant evening reading before she dozed off just after eight. I carried her to our bedroom and helped her undress before tucking her into bed.

Her face was peaceful, her expression serene, as she slept. She had never looked more beautiful to me, and I had never loved her more.

* * *

><p>Bella slept late the next morning. I refused to rouse her, however, and let her wake naturally when she was fully rested. I had an appointment scheduled at 9:30, so we had no extra time that morning, barely finding a minute for a kiss.<p>

The day brought several more patients, one of whom required seven stitches in his head. I was concerned about Bella's reaction to the blood, but she did well. Perhaps it was the air circulation from the open window or the fact that she sat on a high stool, ostensibly to pass me instruments, while I worked. I hoped it was one or a combination of these factors and not something more. I was extremely attuned to any changes she experienced, and a sudden tolerance for blood concerned me.

I remained mute on the subject, though, carrying on with the day's activities. However, when we got home I asked her how she was feeling.

"I'm a little tired, and my back aches a bit," she replied, "but you said that's normal?"

I nodded. "It is, as long it's not a deep or sharp pain."

"It's not—just a dull sort of ache."

"Perhaps a warm bath would help," I suggested.

"That sounds nice. I'm hungry, though, so I think I should eat first."

She ate a small bowl of stew, and after she was certain that her stomach was settled I prepared her bath. She walked into the bathroom wearing a light silk dressing gown tied loosely at her waist. I could see a swatch of creamy skin between her breasts. She smiled and shed the robe.

I watched as she stepped into the tub then sank down into the steamy water. She sighed happily. "It's perfect," she told me. "Thank you, Edward." She leaned back to rest her head against the thick, folded towel I had placed on the edge of the bathtub. Her eyes closed, and she exhaled slowly.

I stood silently for several long moments before she extended her hand to me. I took it.

"Join me?" she asked with a glorious smile.

"Yes."

I removed my clothes quickly. Bella scooted forward so that I could climb in behind her. I cradled her hips with my knees as she leaned back against my chest. I kissed her cheek, my hands upon her shoulders. I rubbed gently, moving down over her arms then slipping one hand between our bodies to press lightly over her back. I massaged the sore muscles for several minutes.

"Feels nice," she informed me, turning her head to kiss my arm.

"I'm glad."

My lips moved down her neck and over her shoulder as my hands crept around, over her hips and to her belly. I rested my right hand above her pubic bone. For several seconds I remained motionless, and then my fingers pressed gently over her. I would be able to feel the edge of her uterus by the twelfth week in a normal pregnancy, the beginning of her second trimester. I forced my hand to remain steady. Could I sense anything now?

"Edward?" Bella asked softly. "What are you doing?"

I shook my head. "I just… I'm just thinking…"

She placed her hand over mine. "I understand."

We sat like that for a long time. Finally Bella turned around to face me, kneeling between my legs. Using my fingertips, I traced softly over her thighs and bottom then trailed my fingers over her ribs. She leaned in to kiss me, and soon her warm, soft body soothed my troubled mind as I allowed myself to become lost in our adulation, if only for a little while.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	48. Chapter 48

I tried not to brood over the next several days. I reminded myself that Carlisle would arrive in Oregon soon and would gladly offer his professional expertise in assessing Bella's and the baby's conditions. Even so, I secreted several medical texts in my bag and pored through them while Bella slept. I read and reread every detail about pregnancy and gestation, ensuring that my knowledge was as accurate as possible. I suppose, in retrospect, that I learned little new information, but seeing it again, printed on the page, assured me that all the information I possessed was comprehensive and correct.

At the end of the week, we received a letter from Carlisle. It had been mailed from Salt Lake City, which surprised me. This seemed a circuitous route from St. Paul to Eugene. Carlisle's neat script informed us that he and Esme had decided to take a detour so that they could see the Grand Canyon. He explained that his position in Eugene did not begin for another three weeks so neither he nor Esme felt any rush to reach Oregon. He informed us that they were having a lovely time, marveling at the natural beauty as they explored the West.

While I was happy to know that they were enjoying themselves, I was disappointed that their arrival would be delayed. At best, they would reach Eugene in a week's time.

"It sounds like they're having fun," Bella commented after she finished reading the letter. "I'm glad they're taking some extra time to enjoy the sights."

I nodded impassively. Bella, of course, sensed my disappointment.

"Our news can wait a few more days," she said gently.

"Yes," I replied, trying not to sound as despondent as I felt.

Bella wrapped her arms around me and held me. "Don't worry, Edward. I really believe that everything will be all right."

I tried not to cringe at her eternally optimistic sentiments. Why did they feel like a harbinger of doom to me?

* * *

><p>Bella had, in fact, been feeling quite well. She had not vomited in five days, and she was eating more and seemed to be gaining a bit of weight. She still slept very soundly and for at least nine hours each night, but she appeared less fatigued during the day. Her heartbeat was steady and strong, as was the fetus's. Objectively, I had nothing to worry about. Yet the diminution of the common first-trimester symptoms continued to concern me.<p>

So it was particularly ironic that their return did little to ease my mind. I think Bella and I were both caught off-guard when she stood up from the breakfast table on Sunday morning only to be assailed by a fierce wave of dizziness. I was in the kitchen, pouring a second cup of tea for her, and did not realize what was happening until I heard the crash.

I spun around to face the breakfast room, terror seizing me when I saw Bella crumpled upon the floor. I smelled blood, too. I dashed to her side, falling onto my knees as I tried to assess the situation.

"Bella," I said, my tone stricken. "Darling…"

Immediately I pressed the fingers of my left hand over her wrist while I brushed the hair away from her face with my right hand. She was ashen. Her eyes were half-closed, and her breathing was shallow.

"Oh…" she murmured, moving her head to the side. "Edward. I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what, love?" It was so like her to apologize for something that was in no way her fault.

"I felt so dizzy all of a sudden… I couldn't get my balance…" Her face pinched in pain as she shifted her arm. "Ow."

I lifted it carefully to find blood seeping through her sleeve just below her elbow. Several shards of glass lay beneath her; she must have dropped her tumbler then fallen upon it. I rolled her onto her side to check for any other cuts, but I saw no evidence of additional lacerations.

I slid one hand beneath her shoulder and the other under her knees then lifted her from the floor. I carried her to the sofa and gently set her down, slipping a pillow beneath her head. In an instant I had brought a clean towel from the kitchen and wrapped it loosely around her arm.

Then I knelt beside her and took her wrist again as I rested the back of my other hand against her cheek. She was not feverish; her skin was slightly cooler than usual. Her respiration and pulse had steadied somewhat, which gave me a small measure of relief.

"How do you feel now?" I asked.

"Better, I think, but the blood…"

"Let me see, darling."

I removed the towel then swiftly unbuttoned her blouse. I knew she could not wear it again until the bloodstain had been laundered. I removed the garment quickly then inspected the wound. There was no glass in it, but it was fairly deep and ragged. I pressed the towel gently over it then set Bella's arm upon her stomach.

"I need to get my bag," I told her. "I'll be right back."

"I know you will." She gave me a little smile, which proved surprisingly comforting.

I retrieved my bag from the hallway then carefully cleaned the laceration. I knew the carbolic solution stung a bit, but Bella remained stoic as I worked.

Once the wound was clean, I said, "It needs a couple of sutures, love."

Her pretty brow furrowed at this news. "Oh. All right…"

"It will only take a few moments," I promised.

While my work was not quite as fast as Carlisle's, I did manage to suture the laceration in a matter of seconds. I knew Bella felt some pain, but it was over quickly. Soon I had wrapped a bandage around her arm and kissed the skin above it. I disposed of the bloodied items then returned to her.

She thanked me, and I kissed her lips softly. She remained paler than I liked, though, and her heartbeat was still rather rapid.

With renewed concern, I asked, "Do you hurt anywhere else, sweetheart?" I lifted her head a little so that I could check her scalp.

"No… not really," she replied.

I found no evidence of injury to her head. "Are you still dizzy or nauseated?"

"I'm not dizzy anymore, but my stomach hasn't settled yet."

I nodded and rested my palm over her brow. "Just stay here for a while. Would you like a blanket?"

"No, I'm not cold." She swallowed then looked up at me with wide eyes. "I haven't felt like that since the funeral. Does it mean… that something's wrong?"

Stroking her forehead, I said, "Light-headedness is common during the first part of a pregnancy. It can come and go, but it's most likely to occur when you stand suddenly."

"Oh. I did get up quickly. There was a spider on the table, and I jumped up to get an empty glass to catch it."

"Well, that probably explains it. You just stood too abruptly."

Bella seemed to harbor some doubts about the veracity of my words. Hesitantly, she asked, "Does the baby's heartbeat still sound all right?"

I could hear the faint flutter unaided, of course, but it was best to assess more thoroughly. I reached for my stethoscope. "I'll check," I replied.

She unfastened her skirt so that I could easily slip my hand beneath the waistband and press the bell directly over her womb. The tiny beat was steady in my ears. I nodded and smiled at her.

"It sounds just fine, darling."

"So you think everything is all right?"

"I believe so. Are you having any cramping or back pain?" I knew she was not bleeding.

"No, just the usual little backache. It hasn't changed since I got up this morning."

"Let me take a quick look at you," I said.

I felt gently over her lower abdomen and inhaled carefully to assess her scent. I could detect no obvious physical changes. Still, it was best to err on the side of caution. While her near-fainting spell was probably the result of changes in hormones and blood flow, there were other possible causes. Anemia was the most likely.

I knew I would have detected a severe iron deficiency by smell alone. However, it was possible that a more subtle insufficiency would be less obvious to me. I gently inspected her lower eyelids to assess the color then checked inside her mouth for pale gums. I also looked carefully at her fingernails in case I had failed to notice any changes in the nailbeds.

"There are no signs of anemia," I reported, "which is good. But let's be sure you eat plenty of iron-rich foods, just in case."

"All right," she agreed. "I feel better now."

"Even so, I'd like you to take it easy for the rest of the morning."

Her incident must have frightened her rather badly, because Bella did not argue with me. She simply nodded and reached for my hand, which she held tightly for some time.

* * *

><p>I felt ambivalent about the return of Bella's symptoms. On the one hand, they were normal at eight weeks of pregnancy, which should have been a comfort to me. On the other hand, they had vanished for a time, as though she had passed through her first trimester and entered her second. If the pregnancy were accelerated—and I still had no solid evidence one way or the other—the dizziness and nausea could be her body's reaction to changes that were occurring too quickly. I had no real precedent for this, but it seemed logical to me. However, I desperately wanted a second opinion. My judgment was, admittedly, not the most objective.<p>

Over the next week, Bella had two more incidences of minor dizziness, both times upon standing. Her nausea returned intermittently, too. One day exposure to blood left her queasy and chilled, while the next she experienced no effects. She vomited after breakfast early in the week but was eating hungrily and feeling fine by the weekend.

As we lay in bed on Saturday morning, my hand moved to Bella's abdomen, where I felt gently above her pubic bone. I thought I could appreciate a slight firmness; was it the upper edge of her uterus?

"Edward?" she questioned. "Is something the matter?"

I realized that I was frowning in concentration. Rearranging my features, I replied, "No, darling, everything seems fine."

"Maybe you should listen to the baby's heart again," she suggested.

I gave a nod of agreement then retrieved my stethoscope. The heartbeat was slightly stronger now. The fetus was definitely developing; the question was, how quickly?

"Edward," she said as I reached up to remove the instrument from my ears,"when will I be able to hear it? I know you said my ears aren't sensitive enough to detect the sounds now…"

"You should be able to hear the heartbeat in a few more weeks," I replied.

"May I try anyway?"

"Sweetheart, you won't be able to hear it—"

"I'd still like to try."

"Of course," I assented. It was difficult to say no to my determined wife.

She sat up, and I placed the earpieces in her ears then rested the bell over the area where the heartbeat was the strongest. Suddenly I realized that Bella's human senses might provide me with critical information. If she could hear the baby's heartbeat now, it meant the fetus was abnormally developed. Human ears, even with amplification, could not discern a fetal heartbeat until twelve weeks at the very earliest.

I tried to keep my hand from shaking as I held the instrument over her belly. Her face tightened in concentration, and she closed her eyes. Suddenly she inhaled sharply, and I felt my entire body freeze. She had heard something.

"Oh!" she gasped softly. "What's that?"

"What… what does it sound like?" I asked. It was difficult to maintain a steady voice.

"Mmm, sort of a soft murmur, but it's not very rhythmic."

I moved the stethoscope and rested my ear over her belly. I picked up some subtle bowel sounds, but I would not describe them as rhythmic. I replaced the instrument and asked her to continue listening.

She listened intently for about half a minute then shook her head. "I'm not sure," she said hesitantly. "There's definitely something…" Her brow furrowed.

"Tap out the sounds with your finger," I said anxiously.

I took her hand and placed it in my open palm. Then I waited until her fingertip touched my skin, once, twice, three times. As she indicated each subtle sound she heard, I listened for the baby's heartbeat. Her taps were slightly out of sync with the tiny beat, but they were not far off. What did this mean?

"I think I can hear it," she said with a nod and a smile. "I'm fairly certain that I can."

I swallowed nervously. "Possibly…"

"Maybe your super-hearing has rubbed off on me," she suggested playfully. She was excited and happy.

However, my despondency grew. It was far too early for this. Something must be wrong; the fetus was surely growing too quickly. What did this mean for Bella? I could offer no joyful words; the best I could do was to mask my deep fear with a wan smile.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	49. Chapter 49

To say that I was relieved when we finally received Carlisle's telegram from Eugene would be a gross understatement. Bella's excitement stemmed from the knowledge that she would see her beloved new parents soon and share what she believed was happy news. My anticipation was a result of my intense need for my father's help.

I wired back immediately asking that Carlisle and Esme come to Madras as soon as possible. I did not wait for the reply; I knew they would read the urgency in my terse words and would respond to my appeal unquestioningly.

Carlisle did send a second telegraph, assuring me that he and Esme were leaving at that moment and would be with us in a few hours' time. I realized that for pragmatic reasons they would need to drive. Arriving at our house without any form of transportation could raise questions. It was better to err on the side of caution, particularly since I was becoming well-known in the area. Still, I wished they had been able to run; it would have been faster.

I closed the office early so that we could get home before my parents arrived. Bella wanted to tidy up the house, too. She was feeling energetic at the moment—quickly rebounding from a bout of nausea and vomiting after her mid-morning snack—and she bustled about arranging flowers from the garden, putting away the books and straightening the pillows in the parlor.

I heard the rumble of the motorcar's engine just after three o'clock.

"They're coming," I called to Bella from my position at the window.

"Oh! I can't wait to see them!" she exclaimed, hurrying from the parlor. She took my hand. "How do you want to tell them?"

I looked down at her eager face. I had not really considered the best way to break the news to them. They must already know that something was the matter; the subtext of my telegram had implied that much. They would surely be anxious.

"I think we should tell them first thing," I replied.

Bella nodded. "Of course." She was beaming.

We watched as the automobile drove up the road. The day was sunny, so Carlisle had put the top up. I could see his and Esme's pale faces through the windscreen. Both wore anxious expressions.

Bella and I stepped outside to wave from the porch. I kept my arm around her waist; I felt very protective of her.

"Hello!" she cried as soon as the vehicle had come to a stop.

Carlisle and Esme climbed out quickly and hurried toward us. I gave each a nod of greeting.

"Edward, Bella," Carlisle said, his eyes moving over each of us in turn. His gaze upon me was as professionally critical as it was upon Bella. Did he think I was in danger? Perhaps he feared that I had suffered a relapse…

"Darling," Esme murmured, drawing me into a firm embrace before hugging my wife more gently.

Carlisle and I hugged, too, but briefly. He drew back to look at me questioningly. I glanced at Bella.

He waited until Esme pulled back, then he took Bella's hands, lifting one to kiss it. I could hear his slow inhale. She was smiling, and in a moment she pressed forward to wrap her arms around him. He kissed her crown softly as he reciprocated the embrace.

Esme gave me a questioning look but refrained from asking me for an explanation. She seemed to understand that I would share my concerns soon.

Carlisle stepped back slightly and placed his hand against Bella's cheek. I knew he was assessing her temperature.

"Are you well, dear?" he asked with concern. Clearly he could tell that something was amiss with her.

Her smile widened, but she blushed. "Yes."

"Come inside, please," I said. "We have something to tell you."

We entered the house and moved to the parlor, where Bella and I sat upon the sofa, her hand in mine. Carlisle and Esme perched on the edges of the wingback chairs, their postures rigid in their anxiety.

Bella looked up at me. She wished for me to share the news.

I took a breath to calm myself. "Something has happened," I began, "something entirely unexpected and unprecedented."

"Sweetheart," Esme interjected, leaning toward Bella, "what's wrong? Are you ill?"

Bella shook her head, a small smile remaining upon her lips. Her expression perplexed my parents. Both looked to me for further explanation.

Concisely, I informed them, "Bella is pregnant."

Esme gasped audibly, and Carlisle's hand shot to his mouth. Both blinked at us in absolute surprise. Carlisle seemed completely at a loss for words, a first for him.

Esme, however, conveyed her thoughts easily. With wide eyes, she exclaimed, "Oh! This is… miraculous."

Bella laughed lightly. "It is!"

Esme's hand was in Carlisle's now. She seemed to intuit his thoughts as she asked, "But how? How is it possible?"

I shook my head; I was still not entirely sure. "Some vestige of my physical humanity apparently remained."

Esme glanced at her husband. His gaze was fixed upon Bella, but he squeezed his wife's hand. "I had no idea that such a thing was possible," he said, finally finding his voice, although it was uncharacteristically tremulous.

"I imagine that most people would think marriage between a human and a vampire impossible, too," Bella said softly, "but it seems that Edward and I are able to do the most unlikely things."

Esme shot forward to take Bella's hands. "Darling, I am so happy for you!"

Carlisle gave me a nod. "Congratulations." His tone remained heavy, however.

"I need to talk to you," I responded, careful to ensure that Bella could not hear my entreaty.

He replied simply, "Yes."

He stood, moving forward to lift Bella's chin gently and kiss her forehead. I got to my feet, and Esme sat down beside Bella, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"Do you know when the baby will be born?" my mother asked my wife.

"In early January, we think," Bella said.

Carlisle caught my distressed look and took my arm. We left our wives talking as we hurried outside. I sank down on the porch step, my head falling into my hands. Carlisle gripped my shoulder supportively.

"Tell me, son," he said without preamble.

"I'm afraid the fetus is developing too quickly—that it's not fully human and will harm Bella."

"Do you know when she conceived?"

"I'm not certain. She had some bleeding and cramping at the end of our honeymoon, and we both assumed she was menstruating. If that was the case, then she is only at six weeks' gestation, but the fetus's heart began beating two weeks ago."

He nodded thoughtfully. "It could have been implantation bleeding."

"Possibly. I don't have any way to determine that definitively. But even if she conceived during our honeymoon, she would only be at nine weeks, yet her symptoms seem more typical of early second trimester."

"Give me details," he urged.

I related all of Bella's symptoms thoroughly, providing specific dates and times for each incident of nausea, vomiting, syncope, and fatigue. I told him what I knew about her physical condition, too.

He listened intently, and when I had finally finished speaking, he said, "I understand your concerns, Edward. However, there is nothing that indicates specifically that the pregnancy is progressing in an atypical manner."

"But there are signs that it may be. Bella was able to hear the heartbeat through the stethoscope two days ago. Even if she's nine weeks pregnant, it's much too early for that."

His brows drew together. "Are you certain that she was able to hear it?"

"I think she could. She was entirely convinced of it."

He permitted himself a small smile. "Expectant mothers can sometimes have rather vivid imaginations."

"Bella isn't like that," I protested.

"Pregnancy can change a woman, son. You know that."

"I do. But I feel as though I cannot be objective in this case. I am constantly second-guessing myself and questioning my professional judgments." I exhaled heavily. "I need your help, Carlisle."

"Of course, son, anything."

"I want you to examine Bella."

He nodded; most likely he had been anticipating this request. His professional curiosity was piqued, too.

"But Carlisle," I persisted, although it pained me terribly, "I need you to be completely impartial. You must be honest with me, whatever you find."

"I will."

I clutched his forearm tightly. "And if there is any reason to believe that this pregnancy is harming her, I will need your help even more."

"Edward, please, you mustn't think like that," he began, his innate compassion suffusing his pragmatism.

Steeling myself, I replied, "Actually, I must. I will do whatever is necessary to ensure Bella's well-being."

He pulled his arm from my grasp and slid it around my shoulders. I leaned heavily against him, and we sat without moving for some time as I tried to draw strength from my father.

* * *

><p>Eventually Carlisle and I returned to the parlor. Esme had obviously overheard much of our conversation; while she kept a pleasant expression on her face, I could see that it was forced. Her voice was a little too cheerful, as well. She gave me a sympathetic look when I entered the room.<p>

I nodded in response then sat down beside Bella. I took her hands in mine. "Darling," I said as calmly as I could, "I'd like Carlisle to have a look at you. He has a great deal more professional experience with pregnancy than I do, and I would appreciate his opinion."

Her joyful expression fell. "You're still worried, aren't you?"

"Yes," I admitted, kissing her cheek.

She sighed. "If this is what you need to know that everything is all right, then fine." She looked up at Carlisle. "When do you want to do this?"

"Whenever you're ready, dear," he replied gently.

She shrugged. "No time like the present, I suppose." Her tone was entirely devoid of humor.

Carlisle slipped from the parlor, murmuring that he would get his bag from the car. Bella and Esme exchanged a look, my wonderful mother offering Bella a soft smile that spoke volumes.

"Why don't we go upstairs," I suggested, standing and extending my hand to my wife.

She rose, momentarily unsteady on her feet. Her heartbeat accelerated, and I worried for a few moments that she was faint. My arm was around her immediately.

"I'm all right," she said quietly.

Esme's pale brow furrowed in concern. We both noted that the color had left Bella's face. I wished Carlisle had witnessed this little incident. It might give him useful diagnostic information.

I kept my arm around Bella as we climbed the stairs then walked along the hall to our room. She sank down on the bed, her hands clasped in her lap. I sat next to her and placed my hand over the back of her neck, massaging gently in the hopes of easing some of her tension.

Carlisle joined us shortly. He set his bag at the foot of the bed. He could hear Bella's rapid heartbeat, just as I could.

"Please don't feel anxious, dear," he said kindly.

She swallowed and took a slow breath, trying to calm herself.

"Edward," Carlisle murmured, "perhaps you should wait downstairs."

I did not intend to scowl at him; it was an innate response. Still, he understood my feelings and attempted to allay them.

"Son, I need to be completely objective. Having you here only makes that harder," he explained too softly for Bella to hear.

I had requested full impartiality; I knew it would be difficult for him to be dispassionate in the face of my emotions. I sighed in resignation, replying, "Only if she's comfortable with that."

He nodded subtly, and I took her hands in mind.

"Darling," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady, "I'm going to wait downstairs with Esme. Is that all right?"

"Oh…" Her gaze flicked to Carlisle then back to me. His expression was gentle and affectionate. "Yes, I suppose so…"

I lifted her hand to kiss it. "I'll be back shortly," I promised.

Carlisle smiled warmly at her. Bella gave me a nod, and I stood, walking slowly toward the door. I glanced back once to whisper, "I love you," then I shuffled down the hallway and descended the stairs.

Esme enveloped me in her arms the moment I stepped into the parlor. She held me for several minutes, both of us listening to the soft conversation upstairs. Carlisle asked Bella many questions, to which she replied honestly. His tone remained professional yet infinitely kind, which I knew calmed her.

Esme gestured to the sofa, and we sat anxiously as their words diminished to a few sporadic comments. I knew that Carlisle was examining Bella now. I did not realize that my hand was gripping Esme's with considerable force until she shifted slightly beside me, a look of pain fllickering on her beautiful face.

"Sorry," I muttered, releasing her hand.

She took my hands between hers immediately, holding them gently. She offered me a sympathetic smile. "It's all right."

Finally Carlisle called me. I was up the stairs in an instant. Bella lay back against the pillows. He sat beside her, moving a fetoscope slowly over her womb.

I moved to my wife's side and clasped her hand. She appeared anxious. With minutely controlled motions, I ran my thumb over her wrist in the hopes of soothing her both her nerves and mine.

After a few long moments, Carlisle looked up at us and smiled, saying, "Everything seems fine,"

"Are you certain?" I asked.

He nodded as Bella sat up. He took her free hand, saying, "You are at nine or ten weeks' gestation. I feel certain that you conceived within a few days of your wedding. You should expect the baby in early January."

Bella's eyes filled with tears as she leaned forward to hug my father. "Thank you, Carlisle!"

"My pleasure," he replied with a pleased grin. "Now, I believe your mother-in-law is anxiously awaiting any further news you can offer her. She's preparing some tea for you…"

Bella got up but paused to kiss my cheek. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too," I responded. I was still slightly shocked by Carlisle's words, so I remained motionless.

She left, and I fixed my gaze pointedly upon my father. "Is it really true? Is she really all right?"

He nodded. "Yes, son, she is."

"Thank God," I breathed, gratefully accepting his embrace.

My elation diminished slightly as my need for objective evidence surfaced anew. I drew back and asked him how he had reached his diagnostic conclusions.

Patiently he explained, "There were three primary goals to my examination: first, determining if the fetus was abnormal in any way. If it were not entirely human, it would not be compatible with Bella's body, and I believe in such a case we would see clear evidence of her system's reaction to a foreign body within her. However, I found no signs of unusual immune response. Additionally, I feel certain that she would not have been able to conceive if your sperm cells were not compatible with her genetic make-up. So, both clinically and logically, we can be assured that the baby is fully human."

I sighed in relief. He gave me a nod then continued speaking.

"The second goal was to assess Bella's overall physical condition, as I know you are concerned about her general health. I see no indications of anemia, hypothyroidism, hypotension, or other possible effects caused by the strain of pregnancy, but of course you will want to monitor her closely as she progresses. At this point, she is healthy, although I have some minor concerns about her weight. It's common for slender women to lose weight during the first trimester if they experience repeated nausea, and I imagine that Bella will begin to gain weight over the next few weeks as she enters the second trimester. Regarding the apparent inconsistency of her nausea, fatigue, and dizziness." He paused to smile gently. "Well, you've based your concerns primarily upon textbook information. However, in my years of practice I've found that every pregnancy is unique in its own way. Some women experience nausea and lightheadedness throughout the entire nine months, while others have little or none at all, even during the first trimester. And we mustn't forget Bella's reaction to blood; surely that has been a factor in some of the instances of both syncope and emesis."

I felt slightly foolish, but Carlisle's expression showed nothing but affection. He continued.

"The third goal of the examination, of course, was to determine if the pregnancy is advancing normally. It is." He gave a nod of satisfaction. "I based this conclusion upon a number of points. First, I recalled that Bella's scent was slightly altered when you returned from your honeymoon. At the time I gave it little thought, assuming that her altered hormone levels were an effect of both menstruation and your intimate activities. I did not associate the scent with that of pregnancy simply because I thought such a thing impossible. I'm certain that if I noted that scent on any other woman I would know that she was with child… and I regret that I dismissed the notion then without a second thought."

"You didn't know," I said.

"No. Still, I should have used my professional instincts better."

"I noticed the changes in her scent, too," I admitted. "And she smelled of me…"

He nodded. "Yes. Esme and I both caught your unique scent from her, too. It is even stronger now. Again we assumed it was due to your prolonged intimate contact. I suppose in part it is, but I believe it is also due to the fact that she is carrying a physical part of you inside her. And, scent aside—although you know what a powerful diagnostic tool our enhanced olfactory system provides—the small changes in her body are perfectly in line with nine to ten weeks of pregnancy, as is the fetus's heartbeat and movement."

"Is her uterus palpable at the suprapubic area?" I asked, curious to know if I had imagined this several days previously.

"Yes."

"But isn't it too early for that?" I knew that I was still being overly cautious, but I needed to hear Carlisle's rational and objective words.

He shook his head. "Not necessarily. Bella is very slim and small-boned; those two factors make it easier to feel even the smallest changes beneath the abdominal wall. And again, you're basing your criteria upon information shared by human physicians. Our senses permit us to note the most subtle changes in our patients, usually before our colleagues can."

"Yes…"

He placed his hand upon my shoulder. "She's fine, son. The fact that she conceived with you seems miraculous to me, but aside from that everything about her pregnancy appears within normal parameters. I know you'll monitor her carefully, and of course I will gladly consult with you any time you have concerns."

"Thank you, Carlisle."

"My pleasure." He gave my shoulder a tender squeeze. "Now, tell me how you're doing, Edward. You mentioned several instances of Bella becoming ill while she was assisting you with patients, but you haven't told me how _you're_ faring."

"I've been fine," I replied. "As long as she's touching me—her skin to mine—I feel nothing from my patients. I'm able to treat them without experiencing any mental discomfort."

"I'm so glad," he responded. "I have to admit that I was worried… Bella's effect upon you seemed so extraordinary; I could scarcely believe it was true."

"But it is. We've proven it time and again."

"Truly, there is something about you and Bella together that is utterly phenomenal."

"It's her, Carlisle; it's all her."

He offered me a significant smile. "I doubt that, son."

We could hear Bella and Esme talking downstairs. Esme's tone had become much more natural as Carlisle spoke with me; she had heard his reassurances that her beloved daughter-in-law was well. Now her warm, soft laugh floated up the stairs.

"I'm sorry that I dragged you away from Eugene just as you arrived," I said as Carlisle replaced items in his bag. "When do they expect you at the hospital?"

"When I received your telegram, I wired them that I'd been delayed in my journey and would not arrive for several more days. I wasn't certain how long you might need Esme and me…"

I nodded. "Thank you. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. Can you stay for a day or two, then?"

"We'd love to," he replied. "We've missed you both."

"We feel the same."

We joined our wives in the breakfast room, where I was pleased to see Bella eating peach slices drizzled with honey and cream. Her cheeks were rosy, and her expression was happy and relaxed. Her slow, steady heartbeat and the whispered flutter of my child's heart were the most beautiful sounds I had ever heard.

It seemed that my parents appreciated this soft, natural music, too. For a few moments everyone was silent while Bella took another bite of the fruit. As she swallowed, she looked up at our reverent faces.

"What?" she asked.

She was met with three delighted smiles. Esme reached out to take her hand.

"We can hear the baby's heartbeat," she said. "It's wonderful."

Bella smiled, too, but I could see a hint of disappointment in her face. "I wish I could hear it as easily as you can. I'm not even sure I was able to hear it with the stethoscope…I wanted to, so very much. But it may have just been wishful thinking." Her hand moved to rest over her flat belly.

"It will still be another two months or so before you'll be able to hear it," Carlisle informed her gently.

"But as soon as it's feasible, we'll try," I added.

She nodded agreeably. "I'd like that."

"Soon dear," Carlisle said, "you'll be able to feel some movement. I'm already able to detect some, and Edward should be able to, as well."

A smile of anticipation spread across my face. I had not thought to try this…

Bella's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? You could feel the baby moving?"

"Not exactly," he answered with a small grin, "but I could hear subtle movements through the fetoscope. That's a very good sign."

Bella's eyes flooded with tears. "Thank you," she said, standing to hug Carlisle.

He held her for several long moments, his expression one of both wonder and joy. Esme was beaming, her hands clasped over her still heart. I wrapped my arm around my mother's shoulders, and she leaned into me.

"Darling," she whispered, "we are overjoyed."

I kissed her cheek. "We are too, Esme."

With my family gathered around me—my parents, my wife, and my unborn child—I believed I was the happiest I had ever been in either of my lives.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Note:<span>**_ A kind reader informed me that a fetal heartbeat is not audible to **human** ears through a stethoscope until 18-20 weeks._ _In the previous chapter, Edward indicated that Bella would not be able to hear the heart beating until she was approximately 10-12 weeks pregnant, which is incorrect. With modern technology, such as a Doppler, this is possible, but it would not have been in the early 20th Century. I apologize for the misinformation.  
><em>


	50. Chapter 50

Carlisle and Esme remained in Madras for two more days. Perhaps it was the excitement of their visit that left Bella feeling exceptionally well. She was only nauseated once, and just for a few minutes after breakfast. Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes shone with joy. We all felt ebullient in her presence, knowing that she carried a miracle within her.

I was calmer than I had been in some time. Carlisle's words assured me that my wife was in no danger from the baby. However, I knew that even a seemingly normal pregnancy could have complications, so a slight edge of anxiety remained with me.

Sensing my lingering concerns, Carlisle spoke with me while Esme and Bella were in the garden the last afternoon of their visit.

"Bella will soon enter her second trimester," he began kindly. "You know the chance of miscarriage drops significantly at that point. With each day that passes, her odds of carrying to term increase. Your senses are unparalleled. Just be aware of Bella's body. Don't disregard any changes you perceive. You know what is to be expected and what may signal possible difficulty… Keep your rationality, son. That is the best thing you can do to ensure her safety."

"I know," I replied. "She just seems so fragile to me."

He smiled sympathetically. "Humans are, compared to us. But Bella is actually quite robust. She really is in good health, Edward. My minor concerns about her weight are fading; she's gained a pound just since we arrived. She's doing well, and I honestly believe that she will continue to do so."

"But if she doesn't…" The possibility was almost too wrenching for me to consider, let alone articulate. "Carlisle, this is our only chance—my only chance to give her a normal life, at least for a little while. I'm certain that she could never conceive with me again."

"Probably not," he agreed.

We had discussed this at length and both concurred that the remnants of my physical humanity were most certainly expended by this point. My body could produce no new sperm cells; it would not be possible for me to impregnate my wife again.

"But it's important to maintain a positive outlook," Carlisle continued. "You know that stress is not good for Bella, so helping her to remain calm is crucial. You mustn't expect the worst, son; that will only make you anxious, and in turn leave her on edge."

I nodded. "I know. I'll try."

It was the best I could do. I hoped it would be enough.

* * *

><p>The morning of Carlisle's and Esme's departure brought the beginning of summer weather. The dawn chill had dissipated, leaving Bella comfortable without a shawl as we stood waving from the porch as the motorcar drove away. The sun was bright, the flowers were in full bloom, and our moods were buoyant with the knowledge that our family was only a few hours away. My parents had promised to return within a few weeks, and we were already eager to see them again.<p>

The next two weeks passed with surprising ease. Bella continued to feel well with infrequent nausea. She gained another two pounds, too, which pleased me tremendously. She remained tired in the evenings and stretched out on the bed in the office during lunchtime for a nap most days, but I knew that her body required more sleep now so was not concerned.

As she slumbered at night, I lay beside her, my hand often resting over her soft, warm belly. I loved hearing my child's fluttering heartbeat, and sometimes with intense concentration I could sense subtle movements beneath my hand. I looked forward to the day when Bella would be able to feel our child, too.

The warmer weather meant fewer illnesses, so we did not see as many patients as we had when stretches of damp, chilly days contributed to bronchitis and pneumonia. The handful of patients who sought my services had varied conditions, ranging from burns to fractures. I also treated a few deep lacerations, the result of farming accidents. Bella fared fairly well sitting beside me with the window open to encourage air circulation throughout the room.

I had asked Mrs. Withers to come in every other Monday so that I could check her regularly. She was our first scheduled patient on June 20. While she spent more time at home now, occasionally she visited the store or took a slow stroll. We had seen her several times in passing since the day she had hinted that she knew about Bella's condition. Her subtle smile and the flick of her eyes toward Bella's abdomen told us that her suspicions were even stronger now.

On the morning of her visit, Bella spent a moment studying the calendar. "Edward, it's the twelfth week now," she told me, her voice full of pleasure and excitement.

Of course I knew precisely how far along she was. If necessary, I could pinpoint it down to the hour… But I did not share this with my wife. I smiled and said, "Yes, it is."

"So that means we can begin sharing our news soon."

"I suppose so."

"Would it be all right if we told Mrs. Withers today? She already suspects… and at least this way she won't keep hinting. I'm sure she'll keep it to herself."

"If you'd like to tell her, darling, then yes, go ahead. I'd prefer that we wait another week or so before we tell the Webers and your mother, though."

She nodded. I could see how excited she was when Mrs. Withers entered the office. I escorted our favorite patient to the examination room and performed the usual assessment. She sat quietly, but her eyes moved to Bella often, a small smile playing at her lips.

When I had finished examining her, I stepped away to make a few notes in her chart. Bella helped her rearrange her clothing, as usual.

Mrs. Withers asked, "How are you doing, dear?"

"Very well, thank you," Bella replied. Her heart sped up a little.

"You're looking well. Your husband must be taking good care of you."

"He is. And now more than ever…" Bella paused, and I turned to watch the exchange. My beautiful wife blushed, and a little nervous giggle escaped her. "We're going to have a baby," she said very softly.

Mrs. Withers beamed at her. "Wonderful!" she exclaimed, and for a few moments a hint of color returned to her wan cheeks. She reached for Bella's hands, grasping them. "I imagine you'll welcome the little one sometime in January, then."

Bella, still blushing delightfully, said, "Yes."

Mrs. Withers laughed and winked at me. "Didn't I tell you you'd be holding your own baby by this February?"

"You did," I agreed, amusement burbling through me. "You were quite right, Mrs. Withers."

She gave a nod of amiable agreement. "I have a sense about these things. I knew you were with child, dear, when you returned from your honeymoon."

"You did?" Bella questioned, clearly surprised.

"Yes."

"Well, you were way ahead of us!" Bella replied with a grin. "But Mrs. Withers, we haven't told anyone else yet," she said with a slightly more serious tone. "We're going to wait a little while longer."

"Of course," she agreed. "I won't say a thing. But you be sure to ask me if you have any questions, honey." She gave me a significant look. "I know your husband is the best doctor in these parts, but he's never borne a child; he doesn't know how you're _feeling_. So you come to me if you have any worries."

I chuckled at the irony of her statement. "Thank you, Mrs. Withers," I said, giving her hand an affectionate squeeze. "We appreciate it."

"Don't suppose you'll need me for the birth," she said with a wry grin.

"Mrs. Withers," I replied, "I would be honored if you would assist me."

We both knew that within six months she would be bed-ridden at best. But we maintained a pleasant façade, nonetheless.

"Well," she replied, "we'll see about that." She touched Bella's abdomen lightly. "I do expect to cradle this little treasure in my arms, no matter what."

"We'll hold you to that," I said.

Bella's eyes filled with tears. She turned away for a moment to wipe them away as I helped Mrs. Withers from the examination table.

"I'm very happy for you," she said as I took her arm to support her as she walked out of the room.

"Thank you," Bella said quietly. "We'll see you soon."

I returned Mrs. Withers to her daughter-in-law's care then rejoined my wife. I embraced her tenderly; she remained emotional, suppressing a few small sniffles. I stroked her hair gently.

"I'm glad she knows," Bella said.

"Me too," I replied. And I truly was.

* * *

><p>The following Saturday, we invited Angela and Ben to join us for supper. It was particularly poignant to watch Bella as she played with Rosemary. The absolute elation in her expression left me almost breathless. I knew she would be a wonderful mother, and I was indescribably happy that I could provide her with that opportunity.<p>

We had decided that we would share our happy news after the meal. However, when Bella passed Rosemary to Angela so that she could put the final touches on the food, Angela smiled gently and said, "You're so good with her. I hope you and Edward will be blessed with a baby of your own soon."

I wondered if Angela suspected. Women seemed to have a special intuition about pregnancy… Bella gave me a significant glance, and I nodded in agreement. This was the perfect time to reveal our little secret.

"Actually," Bella began, her cheeks flooding with color, "we expect that to happen in about six months."

Angela grinned immediately, but Ben required about two seconds to catch on. He laughed heartily and clapped me on the back as our wives embraced.

"Congratulations!" he said.

I was so caught up in the moment that I let him clasp my hand. I felt an uncomfortable tightness in my stomach; he was quite hungry. There was an ache in my left shoulder, too, and a fairly deep one at that. I forced myself to smile and gently eased my hand from his.

"Thank you," I replied. I took a slow, deep breath to clear the discomfort from my mind.

Angela and Bella went off to the kitchen, talking excitedly. Ben gave me a nod, his grin fading slightly.

"You must be excited," he said.

"I am. I'm nervous, too, of course…"

"You'll be a great father, Edward," he assured me.

"I hope so. I'd certainly appreciate any advice you can offer."

"Oh, of course," he said, clearly pleased by my compliment.

Despite his smile, I could see a hint of tightness in his features; I suppose I had been too excited to notice it before. "How are you doing?" I asked.

"Me? I'm fine…"

"Did you hurt your shoulder?" I glanced at the joint. "You're moving your arm rather gingerly."

Surprised, he said, "I didn't think it was that obvious. I didn't want Ange to know."

I gestured for him to sit down. "What happened?"

"I pulled something while I was unpacking crates from the wagon yesterday."

"You should have come to see me," I chided mildly.

"I didn't think it was too bad…"

"But it's still bothering you," I finished.

"Yeah."

"Why don't you want Angela to know?" I inquired gently.

"She has enough to worry about with the baby and… other things."

My brows drew together. "What's going on, Ben? Is something wrong?"

We had not spent much time with our friends since our discovery that Bella was pregnant. Now that I thought back, however, I realized that Ben and Angela had both seemed a bit preoccupied recently.

He shook his head. "No… I don't know, really." He glanced toward the kitchen. We could hear our wives' animated voices. "I don't want to bother you with it, especially not now."

"Tell me," I urged. "I want to help if I can."

He cleared his throat, one hand moving to rub at his sore shoulder. "Ange and I want to have another baby—two or three more, really—and we've been trying since April, but so far…" He sighed and rubbed harder at his shoulder.

"It's only been a couple of months," I replied kindly. "It may take some time."

"But I don't know much more time we have," he said, a stricken expression crossing his face.

Slightly alarmed, I asked, "What do you mean, Ben?"

"My father…" He looked toward the kitchen again. "He died when he was thirty-six. I'm turning thirty next month, and I'm afraid I don't have that much time left. I want to be a good father, to give my children everything I can, while I can. But if it takes us another year or two to have a baby, I could only have a few years with it…"

"How did your father die?" I asked gently.

"His heart gave out. But for several years before, he had aches and pains in his joints, and I think I'm starting to get some of that, too. This shoulder thing—it hurts more than it should."

"Had he been ill prior to the heart attack?"

Ben nodded. "He'd had a bad rash and fever maybe a year before, I think… I was pretty young, but my mother's mentioned it a couple of times."

"I suspect he had rheumatic fever. I can speak with your mother if you like. I think she can confirm this. The disease can cause lingering infection and swelling in the large joints, as well as damage to the heart muscle. The illness isn't something you could inherit, Ben. I've never seen any indication that you have heart problems." This was true. I was always attuned to the physical conditions of our friends; Ben's coronary function was quite strong. "Have you had any other aches or pains?"

He shook his head. "Not really. Sometimes I'll get a crick in my neck after taking inventory…"

"I don't think that's anything to worry about."

"But my shoulder…" He rubbed at it again.

"Most likely you pulled a muscle. Sometimes we don't feel the strain until some time afterwards. Would you like me to take a look at it?"

Even as I made the offer, I realized I faced a small dilemma. Ben would surely find it odd if I called in Bella while I examined his shoulder. I did not believe that his pain was terribly significant, however; I would attempt to handle the situation on my own.

Ben gave me a grateful nod and began to unbutton his shirt. I asked him to move his arm in several ways, watching for indications of which muscles were affected. Then I took a deep, steady breath and placed my hand upon his shoulder. I examined him as quickly as I could, but my own shoulder was aching and my mind was prickling with mild discomfort by the time I had finished.

"It's just a muscle strain," I reported.

"You sure? You look upset, Edward."

"I'm sorry. I'm fighting a bit of a headache," I attempted to explain. "Really, you just need to rest it. Excuse me for a moment…"

I stood quickly and hurried toward the kitchen. I felt unsettled still and needed Bella's touch. She was standing at the stove, scooping mashed potatoes into a bowl.

"Is supper almost ready?" I asked as casually as I could manage.

She looked up at me, immediately seeing the strain in my face. "Edward?" she asked softly. "What…"

I shook my head and rested my hand against her cheek. She placed her hand over mine, seeming to understand what I needed. Instantly my mind was clear, the discomfort easing away.

"So," I asked, "supper?"

Our eyes met, and she saw that I was fine now, although she still wondered what had caused my minor distress. "Yes… Just give us another couple of minutes."

Angela was busy cutting some bread and missed most of our silent exchange.

"I'll let Ben know," I said, kissing Bella's cheek quickly before returning to the parlor.

"Sorry," I said. "I thought I had some pain medication I could give you, but it looks like I left it at the office. I can go back into town with you after supper and get it—"

"No, it's not that bad," he replied.

"Well, if you change your mind, just let me know. And stop by the office on Monday if you have a few minutes. I'll check and make sure your heart is all right."

He appeared relieved and agreed to come by first thing in the morning. The remainder of the evening was spent in happier discussions, but I resisted devoting more than brief conversation to Bella's pregnancy.

When our friends left, Bella and I cleaned up the kitchen then retreated to our bedroom. She was tired but content, craving physical closeness with me. I made love to my wife gently and reverently, and she fell asleep with a satisfied little smile upon her beautiful face.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	51. Chapter 51

I thought about Ben for the rest of the weekend. I was not worried about him; rather, I kept recalling those moments when I had examined him. I had managed to deal with his pain, but it had left me slightly shaken. This was no surprise to me. However, it reminded me of the fact that I could not treat patients effectively without Bella's help. How much longer would she be able to provide that?

Even if she remained healthy, I would not permit her to work during the final portion of her pregnancy. And if she showed any indications of difficulties, I would insist that she remain at home—regardless of how much longer she had. But what then? Would I close the practice? I felt an obligation to the Webers, to Mrs. Withers, and to the other patients who entrusted me with their care.

I decided not to dwell upon this matter, at least not yet. But I would have to deal with it eventually. It would be wise to have a plan in place. I deferred discussion with Bella, fearing it might cause her undue stress. Yet we would need to address the issue at some point.

True to his word, Ben appeared at the office a few minutes after we unlocked the door on Monday morning. He told Bella that Angela wished to see her at the store for a few minutes, and she hurried away, promising to return soon.

"I suggested we give Bella something for the baby," he told me. "She was happy to do it."

"Thank you; that was kind of you," I replied.

"I wanted a couple of minutes alone with you," he said. "I know Bella keeps patients' issues confidential, but she and Ange are such good friends… I didn't want anything to slip."

"I understand." I motioned for him to follow me into the examination room and closed the door behind us.

He climbed up on the table as I reached for my stethoscope. He told me that he had spoken with his mother, who had provided details about his father's illness.

"He had a really bad rash that started at his ankles and moved up his body," he said. "There was a high fever too, and it lasted for about a week. He was pretty sick, but then the rash and fever faded. The joint pain remained, though, and he passed away about ten months later."

I nodded. "I'm quite sure it was rheumatic fever. But I'll check your heart just to be certain there are no problems."

He sat quietly while I listened, using the additional amplification to be absolutely certain that the muscle was functioning properly. His lungs were clear and healthy, too. When I was finished, I told him the good news. He was pleased and relieved and thanked me profusely.

We chatted for a few moments, then he left, telling me that Angela expected him back. I could see Bella walking down the street toward me, and I waved at her. She returned the wave and smiled, increasing her pace a bit. She carried a small package in her hands.

I strolled out to meet her, slipping my arm through hers. When we returned to the office, she showed me the pretty little baby blanket Angela had given her.

"That was so thoughtful of her," she said.

"It was," I agreed.

Our friends were kind, caring people. I wondered again how I could abandon them if they should need me. But my wife and child were my first priority.

As Bella folded the blanket and tucked it into her bag, a smile lingered on her lips. "Now that a few people know about the baby," she said, "it's beginning to seem more real."

I took her into my arms and kissed her forehead. From the moment I had heard the tiny heartbeat, the baby had been a reality to me. However, Bella could not hear our child, nor could she feel its miniscule movements within her womb. Her body was changing, but slowly and subtly; she had gained several pounds, but she was just barely beginning to show, and probably only to my hyper-observant eye.

I looked forward to the day when she would both feel and hear our child within her.

* * *

><p>That evening Bella wrote to her mother to share the joyful news. Mrs. Dwyer was a sporadic correspondent at best, but I hoped my wife's letter would prompt a swift reply. I knew it would please Bella to receive her mother's response.<p>

We posted the letter on Tuesday morning. Bella and Angela now shared a special bond, and little grins and giggles shot back and forth between them whenever they were together. Ben often smiled at me, too, and I felt that we had all grown closer. This knowledge awed me. I had never imagined that I would have human friends again. It was a wonderful feeling.

On Saturday morning as Bella got out of the bathtub, I heard her gasp. I hurried to the bathroom, immediately concerned. She was standing before the mirror, water dripping from her hair onto the floor. Heart beating quickly, she had her hands pressed over her abdomen. My gaze raked over her as I tried to determine the source of her distress.

"Bella! What's the matter, darling?" I questioned.

She turned her head toward me, a grin spreading over her face. "Look, Edward." She moved her hands, sliding one down to rub over the tiny protrusion between her hips. "I think I'm starting to show."

I moved to stand behind her, resting my hands over her belly. "Yes you are, love." I kissed her bare shoulder and neck. "It's beautiful."

I adored each small change in her body: The fullness and deeper coloring of her breasts, the new thickness of her glossy hair, the rosy glow of her skin, and now the slight swell of her belly.

I fell to my knees to press my lips over her abdomen. Her fingers wove through my hair as I continued to kiss her glorious body, moving down to brush my mouth over each hipbone then lower. Soon we were back in bed, where we remained for some time expressing the depth of our love for each other.

We were both in a jovial mood for the rest of the day, exchanging secret smiles as we strolled through the orchard and sat in the garden for a picnic lunch. After she had finished eating, Bella stretched out and laid her head upon my lap. I stroked her hair as she fell asleep in the warm afternoon sun. I wondered if it were possible for any being to feel as happy as I did at that moment. I decided the answer was a resounding no.

* * *

><p>Bella received a letter from her mother the following Wednesday. I watched her face as she read it, anticipating her cheerful expression as she took in the contents. However, as her eyes moved over the page, her features sobered. She lowered the sheet with a small sigh.<p>

"What did she say?" I asked.

"She's happy for us, of course… but…" She passed me the letter.

I read it quickly. The first line contained words of congratulations—standard platitudes that struck me as rather impersonal. The rest of the letter was about a trip the Dwyers were taking. Mrs. Dwyer wrote effusively about their plans to travel to Boston then take a ship to London. They planned to spend two months in Europe, "a belated honeymoon," she wrote. The letter ended with a brief apology that they would not have time to come and see us before they departed but would look forward to a visit once they returned. She finished by expressing hope that Bella was doing well without specific mention of the baby.

"I'm sorry, love," I said. "I know she's happy for you…"

"She is. But her own news is more important…It's just the way she is."

I felt grateful that Bella had a mother-in-law who truly cared for her and brought maternal affection into her life. Esme and Carlisle planned to visit us during the upcoming weekend; it was perfect timing. I knew my mother would cheer Bella with her gentle pampering and kindhearted care.

* * *

><p>Bella's mood remained slightly subdued for the rest of the week, but she seemed more cheerful on Friday morning. She tidied the house in preparation for our guests before we left for the office. The day passed quickly, and soon we were back home waiting for the distinctive sound of Carlisle's automobile.<p>

I heard it first, of course, and we went out to wait on the porch. The sky was cloudy, so Carlisle had the top down. He and Esme waved as they drove up. She hopped gracefully out of the car and dashed to us, hugging Bella first then me, then returning to embrace Bella again.

"How are you doing, dear?" she asked, studying Bella with a critical mother's eye.

"I'm well," Bella replied, smiling.

Carlisle took her in his arms next, inhaling carefully to assess her scent. I appreciated the gesture; he wanted to be certain she was in good health. He drew back after a few long moments to gaze appraisingly at her.

"You look very well, sweetheart," he said with a grin. "I believe you've gained a bit of weight… which is a very good thing."

She nodded, a hint of a blush creeping over her cheeks. "I have. The nausea is just about entirely gone, and I'm hungry all the time."

"Then it's a good thing that I've brought apples," Esme said. "We passed a fruit stand, and they looked so fresh and lovely. I'm going to bake a pie for you!"

Bella giggled. "I'll help."

"You'll do no such thing!" my mother scolded cheerfully. "While I'm here, you are not to lift a finger."

"Esme, I'm fine. I'm hardly even tired anymore…"

"I agree with Esme," Carlisle said, his golden eyes twinkling with amusement. "Doctor's wife's orders."

Bella shook her head, but she was smiling. I moved behind her to wrap my arms around her, my hands naturally coming to rest upon her lovely little belly. I rubbed gently at the small bulge.

"Oh goodness!" Esme exclaimed, her eyes drawn to my hands. "What's this?"

I moved my hands, and Esme, with Bella's nod of ready agreement, rested her palm against the hint of roundness.

"Oh sweetheart!" she exclaimed, "I can feel it."

Bella nodded, her eyes filling with tears again at my mother's true joy.

"May I?" Carlisle asked when his wife had finally lowered her hand.

"Of course," Bella replied. She was beaming.

Carlisle placed his hand against her abdomen, his fingers moving gently yet surely over the little mound. He gave a satisfied nod, commenting, "Perfect for fourteen weeks."

Esme and Bella were both beaming. My mother looped her arm through Bella's and led her into the house, insisting that her daughter rest while she began the pie.

Carlisle clapped me softly upon the back. "She's doing well," he said, his sincere pleasure in his voice.

"She is."

"I'm so happy for you, son… for both of you."

"It's even better that we can share it with you and Esme."

He smiled, touched by my words. From inside, we heard our wives laughing, the most beautiful music to our adoring ears.

Carlisle's and Esme's visit was wonderful. They told us about Eugene, where they were settling in well. Carlisle enjoyed working at the small hospital, and Esme was pleased with her efforts to decorate the house and create a rather elaborate garden. She promised she would bring fresh vegetables to us at the end of the summer.

They had spent a day at the beach house and hoped to return there soon. However, visiting us was their priority at the moment. Bella and I both appreciated the sentiment. I knew it warmed her heart to hear that her new parents cared about her so deeply.

We all felt a bit morose on Sunday afternoon when they departed. Many hugs and kisses were exchanged with promises of another visit as soon as possible. Bella and I waved as Carlisle and Esme drove off.

"I miss them already," Bella said.

"Me too. But we'll see them again soon."

She nodded. "There's one good thing about having the house to ourselves again," she said slyly, her hand sliding down my chest to rest over my hip.

Her scent deepened, and I knew what she was thinking about. I nibbled her earlobe then ran my tongue over her neck, eliciting a delighted little shiver from her. Then I scooped my wife up into my arms and carried her inside. We spent the next hour in bed, enjoying the privacy as we abandoned ourselves to pleasure.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	52. Chapter 52

June slipped by in a wink. Bella's nausea had dissipated completely once she passed fourteen weeks. However, during the third week of July, as we lay in bed on Sunday morning, she made an odd noise, and I worried she was feeling ill again. Her hand moved to her belly as her expression reflected confusion.

"Darling? What is it?" I asked, instantly concerned.

"I'm not sure… I feel something."

"Nausea? Cramps?"

"No. It doesn't hurt. It's sort of like a fluttering?" Her voice was hopeful.

I rested my hand beside hers, a grin spreading over my face. "Quickening," I said. "You're feeling the baby move."

She laughed joyously. "Oh! That's what I was hoping it was, but I wasn't sure…"

I could sense the subtle movements beneath my palm. Our child—the tiny being we had created—was moving within its mother's womb. I had sensed minuscule movements before, but this was the strongest. It was certainly a good sign.

Keeping my hand over her belly, I kissed her deeply. She had to pull away as a giggle escaped her.

"I think the baby likes that. It's still moving!" she exclaimed.

We lay together for a long time, marveling at the life we felt inside her.

* * *

><p>July passed into August. The first Monday of the month marked Bella's nineteenth week. As we opened the office that morning, I said a bit cautiously, "I think you may be able to hear the heartbeat now. Would you like to try?"<p>

She beamed up at me. "Oh yes, Edward!"

We had no patients scheduled until 11:00, so I did not think we would be interrupted. I escorted her to my consulting room then I suggested she lie back on the bed while I retrieved the fetoscope from the examination room. Bella had unfastened her skirt and slid up her blouse to reveal her lovely, rounded belly. She smiled at me as I sat down beside her.

I placed the bell over her abdomen and spent a few moments listening, finding the area where the sound was strongest. Then I helped Bella to sit up so that she could lean forward and place her brow in the headrest. I adjusted the earpieces for her then pressed the bell over her womb again.

She closed her eyes in concentration for several seconds, then she gasped. "Oh! I can hear it. I really can!"

Her expression reflected wonder, joy, and love. Her warm fingers entwined with mine, and we sat for a long minute listening to the rhythmic beat of our child's heart. I smelled salt and knew that Bella was crying. My own throat felt very tight as emotion surged through me.

"Thank you," she finally said, lifting her head.

I gathered her into my arms, kissing the tears upon her cheeks. "I love you so much," I said huskily.

"No more than I love you." Her hand moved to rest over her belly. "I feel like I know her now… like she's become a person."

"She?" I questioned with a small smile.

Bella nodded. "I just have a feeling it's a girl."

"Hmm." I nuzzled her hair. "Time will tell."

"Yes. Either way, I'll be happy."

"Me too."

She laughed in delight as she said, "We're going to have a baby, Edward—our child."

"Our child," I repeated, and I kissed her once again.

* * *

><p>Esme and Carlisle visited at the end of July, and Esme brought several pretty dresses, skirts, and blouses she had purchased for Bella and tailored to fit her changing body. I found the gesture extremely considerate and kind, and Bella appreciated it, too.<p>

My beautiful wife dressed in a new blouse and skirt the morning of our parents' departure. Bella's complexion seemed to glow, the deep blue and burgundy fabrics enhancing her rosy cheeks and glossy hair.

Even Carlisle was struck by the lovely vision she presented. "My goodness, dear," he said, "you look wonderful!"

Bella blushed deeply, smoothing the front of the blouse. The garment was cut to accommodate the soft roundness of her belly. "I think I look like I'm expecting," she replied.

"Indeed," he responded with a fond chuckle. "There are few sights more beautiful."

She moved forward to embrace him. He kissed her brow tenderly as his hands spread gently over her back. His own expression was a poignant mix of wonder and adoration.

Esme slipped her arm around my waist, resting her head against my shoulder. Her smile was tender, her eyes shining with joy. Even if I had not possessed perfect memory, I knew I would remember this moment for the rest of my existence.

* * *

><p>At nineteen weeks and in her new attire, Bella's pregnancy was obvious now. Everyone in the community who knew us, as well as some who did not, was aware that the doctor's wife was expecting a child. We received many smiles, handshakes, and good wishes. At first Bella was quite embarrassed by the attention, but eventually she came to appreciate the sentiments.<p>

I had not seen Mrs. McMahon in some time. I had visited her several times in the weeks following her delivery, but once she had recovered I felt that her family deserved privacy. Little Pearl, however, continued to deliver a basket of eggs to our home every Saturday morning. She usually left with cookies or a small cake in the empty basket, courtesy of Bella. While my wife was often sleeping when the child arrived, I knew that I was to send fresh baked goods home with our small neighbor.

The weekend after Carlisle's and Esme's visit, Bella woke just after seven on Saturday morning. We had retired early the previous night, and she had slept soundly, so she was well-rested. She had just finished dressing when Pearl arrived with her weekly egg delivery.

"Pearl is here," I told my wife.

"Oh, good," Bella replied, smiling fondly. "I haven't seen her in awhile, and she's such a dear little girl. I made those snickerdoodles on Thursday; they're one of her favorites."

I kissed her cheek then took her hand as we walked down the stairs. Pearl was just about to knock at the door.

"I'll get the cookies, and perhaps she'd like a glass of milk, too," Bella said, hurrying to the kitchen.

I opened the door to admit the little girl. With the fresh air came the smell of blood. Immediately I knelt before the child. She was gripping the basket tightly in her left hand. Her right arm hung limply at her side. I could see dried tears upon her lightly freckled cheeks, and a small sniff escaped her even as she tried to appear stoic.

"Pearl," I said gently, "are you all right?"

She nodded and lifted the basket toward me. "I'm sorry… five of the eggs broke."

I took the basket and set it on the porch. "That doesn't matter, sweetheart."

"But I'm supposed to bring you ten eggs every Saturday… Mama doesn't even have to tell me anymore. I remember by myself." Fresh tears were welling in her eyes. "And," she sniffled miserably, "I _count_ them, and I always bring you ten."

I placed my hand upon her cheek. A warm tear dripped onto my finger. "What happened?"

She blinked hard and swallowed. "I'm supposed to be careful. Mama always says don't break the eggs… But there was a wasp, and it was buzzing at me—"

"Did it sting you?" I asked, concerned that she might have an allergic reaction.

She shook her head. "I ran away, but I fell down, and I dropped the basket, and the eggs broke." A sob shook her thin frame.

"Sshh, it's all right," I said softly, wrapping my arms around her gently. "We still have five eggs, and I happen to know that Mrs. Cullen needs exactly that many for the cake she wants to make tomorrow."

"She… she does?" the little girl asked with another sniff.

"Yes. That's the perfect amount," I assured her. I drew back so that I could see her face again, offering her a smile.

Her cheeks were wet, and her nose was running. I removed my handkerchief and wiped her face. She was calming, her breaths coming more slowly and steadily. However, the scent of blood remained in the air.

"Did you get hurt when you fell?" I asked gently.

She nodded somberly. "I ripped my dress." Her lip trembled at this admission. "Mama'll have to patch it…" Her gaze lowered to her right arm.

"You hurt your arm," I confirmed.

She nodded again, rotating the appendage so that the crimson stain over her elbow was visible to me. The fabric was indeed torn, and I could see a deep abrasion beneath. I smiled sympathetically.

"It must sting," I commented.

She gave a nod of affirmation.

I stood and reached for her right hand. "Mrs. Cullen has some snickerdoodles and milk for you," I said, leading her into the house. "I think you'll feel better after you've had some cookies and we've cleaned up your arm."

My words did not assuage her completely. She still appeared rather dejected. Yet she was a well-mannered, sweet child, and she whispered, "Thank you."

Bella came out of the kitchen, a plate of cookies and glass of milk in her hands. She was smiling, but the moment she took in Pearl's appearance, her expression changed to one of concern.

"Gracious," she said, "what's the matter?"

"Pearl was chased by a very mean wasp," I replied. "Thank goodness she was able to outrun it. However, it made her fall, and she scraped her arm." I paused for a few moments then continued, "But do you know that now she has exactly five eggs for you, just the amount you told me you need for that cake?"

Bella opened her mouth to speak, then caught my wink. "Well, that's perfect; it is just what I need!" she exclaimed. "But I'm very sorry you were hurt, honey."

I led Pearl into breakfast room and helped her onto a chair. Bella set the food on the table, glancing cautiously at the child's arm. Most of the blood had dried, but I knew some fresh bleeding would likely occur when I cleaned the wound.

I studied Bella's face for a few moments. Her cheeks remained rosy, and I saw no indication that she was feeling nauseated.

"Are you all right?" I asked her softly.

She nodded. Pearl's eyes were wide as she watched us. She appeared anxious, her heart rate increasing. Bella smoothed her hand over the child's hair and offered her a smile.

"Does it hurt very badly?" she asked, glancing at the injury.

Pearl shook her head, but she was growing teary again. Bella knelt before her, taking her hands.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" she asked.

Pearl blinked at her tears and swallowed.

"Oh my…" Bella stroked her hair, looking up at me questioningly.

"Her sleeve," I whispered, pointing.

Bella glanced down, quickly seeing the tear. We both understood that the McMahons did not have the money to replace a damaged dress. Pearl must be worried about that.

"Hmm," Bella mused with a small smile. "You know, I have lots of bits of fabric in my mending basket, and I think I have some that's almost like this pretty material." She touched Pearl's cuff. "Yes, it's very similar, but it's a small piece, and I don't really have any use for it. Would you let me patch your sleeve with it?"

Pearl took a shaky little breath, lifting her eyes to Bella's face. She gave a small nod in response.

"Wonderful," Bella replied. "Let me help you take this off, and I'll just wash the sleeve then put on that patch. It's going to look so pretty!"

Pearl stood quietly while Bella unbuttoned the dress then removed it, mindful of the little girl's injured arm. Once the child was seated again, Bella asked, "Are you all right, honey? Are you cold?"

Pearl wore a threadbare slip beneath her dress. The breakfast room was fairly warm, however, and she shook her head. I was a bit surprised by her apparent shyness; I knew she was fond of Bella, and usually she warmed up to my wife quickly.

Perhaps her pain was causing her timidity. Her little face remained pale and rather pinched. Bella caressed her cheek then went into the kitchen to wash the soiled sleeve.

"While Mrs. Cullen is sewing," I said cheerfully, "I'll fix up your arm, and then you can have some cookies… unless you'd like one now?"

Pearl's eyes moved to the plate, but she shook her head. "No thank you," she said very softly.

"All right," I replied, still slightly concerned. "I'm going to get a few things. I'll be right back."

I joined Bella in the kitchen briefly. I wanted to be certain that the blood was not bothering her. She had already removed most of it from the fabric.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm fine. Compared with the injuries we see at the office, this is fairly insignificant. I only felt a tiny twinge of queasiness when I first ran the water over it."

"Let me finish," I offered, taking the garment from her.

I rubbed the fabric between my fingers until the last traces of blood were gone, then I squeezed the excess water from the sleeve. With one quick look back at the breakfast room to ensure that Pearl remained seated and unable to see me, I fanned the fabric very quickly, drying it in thirty seconds or so.

Bella was smiling and shaking her head at me. "And I've been hanging wash on the line all this time!" she said with a chuckle.

"I'm sorry, love."

"It's all right. But I think that will come in handy when we have all those baby clothes and diapers to launder."

"I will be at your service." I kissed her cheek then handed the dress to her.

While she hurried upstairs to fetch her sewing supplies, I gathered the items I would need to attend to Pearl's injury. When I returned to the breakfast room, I found the child sitting stiffly in the chair. She had not touched the cookies or the milk.

I set my supplies on the table then pulled up a chair to sit before Pearl. Offering her a smile, I said, "I'm going to wash off the blood then clean the scrape with some medicine. I'm afraid it's going to sting a little."

She nodded somberly, and I began to work. As gently as possible, I wiped cool water over the area to remove the blood, then I swabbed the abrasion with a very mild carbolic solution. She flinched a bit, and her heart beat faster, but she did not make any noise. After drying the wound, I wrapped a bandage around it, then I placed my hand over it to ease the residual sting with my cool skin.

"There we are," I said. "How does it feel?"

She still appeared to be in pain. She was fighting new tears now. "It's better," she murmured.

I remained concerned about her. Resting my hand against her cheek, I asked, "Sweetheart, what's wrong? Does something else hurt?"

She shook her head slowly, her gaze moving around the room. Was she looking for Bella?

"Mrs. Cullen is upstairs," I said kindly. "Do you want me to call her?"

"No, thank you," Pearl whispered. She was growing anxious again. I felt there was something she wished to say but was hesitant to express.

"Pearl?" I questioned softly. "What is it?"

She swallowed and looked up at me, her eyes wide. "Does Mrs. Cullen have a baby in her?" she asked almost breathlessly.

With a smile, I replied, "Yes, she does."

"Is it a little boy?" Her voice was tremulous.

"She thinks it's a little girl, but we really don't know," I began.

Her tears welled again. "Do baby girls… die, too?"

And then I understood. She was not upset about her dress or in pain from her wound. She was frightened for Bella and for our baby. The memory of her own family's loss was still very fresh in her mind.

"Oh honey," I said, embracing her tenderly. "It's all right. Mrs. Cullen and the baby are just fine."

I placed her in my lap and held her gently. She cried for several minutes. I stroked her hair and rubbed softly at her back until she quieted. When she was calmer, I lifted her chin so that I could see her face and she mine.

"What happened to your mama and baby brother was very sad," I said gently. "I wish I could have helped them more, but sometimes there are things that we just can't change…"

She nodded soberly. "Papa told me that my baby brother was supposed to go right to heaven."

I was not particularly religious, but I gave her an encouraging nod. "Yes, I think that's true."

"But most babies don't go right to heaven," she continued, trying to work out the difficult problem. "I didn't, and Jamie didn't, and Rosemary didn't, and Mrs. Cullen's baby won't…"

I felt a pang at her words. My throat was tight for a few moments before I was able to respond. "I have every hope that Mrs. Cullen's baby will turn out to be a wonderful little girl just like you."

A small smile graced Pearl's pretty face; her relief was visible. I wiped the remnants of her tears from her cheeks.

"Now, how about a cookie and a few sips of milk?" I suggested.

She nodded agreeably, and I placed her back in her chair. I could hear Bella coming downstairs, so it seemed the dress was ready. I excused myself for a minute to dispose of the supplies I'd used. When I returned, Bella was helping Pearl into her dress. I admired my wife's handiwork. She had patched the torn sleeve then sewn another patch on the other sleeve so that the two matched. She had also added a bit of lace to the neckline of the simple dress.

Pearl was clearly pleased with Bella's efforts. She hugged my wife and thanked her, then they sat and chatted pleasantly for a little while, both enjoying the cookies. I brought the basket of eggs inside, cleaning the mess from the broken shells and placing a fresh cloth inside. I knew Bella wanted to send more snickerdoodles home with the child, so I filled the basket with cookies.

When Pearl left, she had a smile upon her face and the basket swinging from her hand. We stood on the porch to watch her walking away, then Bella and I returned to the house.

I was surprised to find tears in my wife's eyes as soon as we stepped inside.

"Darling, what's the matter?" I asked, cupping her cheeks in my hands.

"I heard you talking with Pearl about the baby…" She swallowed back a sob. "You were wonderful with her."

"Bella, what she said… She doesn't understand. She's just a child—"

She nodded, but she was still crying. "I know. Honestly, I'm not worried about that. I feel good, and I truly believe that the baby will be fine."

"Then what's wrong, love?" I rubbed my thumb over her wet cheek.

She pressed her lips over my palm. "I'm not crying because I'm sad," she said. "I'm just thinking about how you'll be with our daughter. You're going to be a wonderful father, Edward."

I smiled, recalling her sweet manner with Pearl. Then I envisioned her with another little girl, one with coppery hair and beautiful brown eyes…

"And you will be a wonderful mother," I replied.

Our lips met in a tender kiss that held love, joy, and promise.

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><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	53. Chapter 53

The second week of August brought very hot weather. The air was oppressive, and I knew that the heat was uncomfortable for Bella. The nights were cool, but during the day I often had to hold her in my arms to help her feel more comfortable.

As Bella was undressing for bed one particularly muggy evening, she called for me. Her voice was strained, and I could hear her heartbeat beginning to race. I darted up the stairs to our bedroom, where she stood looking down at her bare belly.

"Edward… what's this?" she asked. Her hand hovered over a reddened area beneath her navel.

I bent to inspect the site. The skin was irritated; tiny blisters had formed, leaving her flesh raised and raw. I recognized it quickly as a simple case of miliaria.

"It's not serious," I informed her. "It's just a heat rash. It's called miliaria."

"Are you sure? It's right over the baby."

"It won't cause any harm. Does it itch?"

She nodded. "A little—more now that I've seen it."

"I'll get you some salve, love. Clothing will only irritate it further. No nightdress tonight, all right?"

She readily agreed. Our room remained warm after an especially hot day, so she did not bother to put on anything more than her lightest robe while she waited for me to get the salve. I bathed the rash with cool water then dried it gently with a soft, cotton towel before rubbing in the salve. I was grateful for my cold flesh, knowing that the coolness would soothe Bella as much as the salve did.

I lay beside her as she fell asleep, running my hand up and down her arm and flank with very light motions. I knew she enjoyed this, and I hoped it would keep her mind off of the prickling of the rash.

While Bella slept, I wondered if I should provide her with a respite from the hot, humid weather. The rash was the deciding factor; I determined to do whatever I could to alleviate her discomfort. I would take her to the coast for a few days. I knew Carlisle and Esme would happily let us use the house in Newport. We had talked about meeting there, actually, and perhaps this would be an ideal time for that. Bella was early enough in her pregnancy that travel would not be dangerous to her or the baby, so this seemed like a good opportunity for a little trip.

In the morning I wired Esme with my idea. She sent a reply expressing her support, saying that Carlisle had to work on Saturday but that they could join us early on Sunday. My work had been quite slow for the past week, and I had no patients scheduled on Thursday or Friday, so I decided that we would leave on Wednesday night. It would be more comfortable for Bella to travel in the cool darkness, and this would give us three full days at the house before my parents arrived. Much as I enjoyed Carlisle and Esme, I also craved time alone with my extremely alluring wife.

I shared my plan with Bella that afternoon. She was delighted at the prospect of seeing the ocean and visiting the lovely little cottage again. Knowing that Carlisle and Esme would come for our last day made the idea even sweeter.

Bella slept during much of the drive, which pleased me. I had hoped she would be able to rest comfortably as we traveled. I had placed pillows and blankets in the motorcar, and she lay with her head in my lap for a long time, sleeping as the cool air washed over us.

We arrived at the beach house well before dawn. Bella roused partially, but I told her to go back to sleep, carrying her inside and tucking her into bed. I made sure she was well and comfortable, then I unloaded our things from the automobile and readied the house for morning.

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><p>Bella was delighted to wake to cool ocean breezes and a view of the sparkling sea. After she ate a hearty breakfast, we walked along the beach and dipped our toes in the crisp water. We devoted a lazy afternoon to lounging on the sand, letting the sunshine bathe us in gentle warmth. Bella never tired to seeing the effect of full sunlight upon my skin, and in our secluded cove I did not have to worry about covering myself. It felt wonderful to have the sun on my bare chest. It felt even better, however, to have Bella's head resting there, her fragrant hair tickling my nose.<p>

Our night was lovely, too, as we remembered some of the most ardent moments of our honeymoon and attempted to recreate them. They were even more marvelous now. Our intimate knowledge of each other, coupled with Bella's increased sensitivity and the intense desire her gloriously pregnant body fueled within me, led to several indescribably magnificent hours that night and the following morning.

We took another walk along the beach before lunch. The day was cloudy, but the brisk, salty breeze seemed to invigorate Bella, leaving her rosy-cheeked with happiness.

"I'm so glad we came," she said. "It was a wonderful idea."

"Would you like to drive into Newport for lunch? I thought you might enjoy going back to the shop where you bought the bonnet for Rosemary."

Clearly pleased with the suggestion, she said, "Oh, that would be lovely!"

She had not begun purchasing items for the baby yet, but I felt it was time she start. I knew how exciting shopping would be for her, and I looked forward to seeing her delighted expression as she browsed through the tiny garments.

We returned to the cottage and dressed for our little excursion. Bella looked lovely in a robin's egg blue blouse, pale gray skirt, and pretty straw boater. I made sure she took along a shawl, in case the sea air became too chilly.

Our drive was pleasant. We talked contentedly as the automobile meandered along the narrow, winding road. However, after a time Bella grew quiet.

"Is something wrong, love?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I was just thinking that probably the next time we come here we'll have the baby with us. I can scarcely imagine it!"

"It's going to be wonderful," I told her, reaching for her hand.

She scooted closer to me, leaning her head upon my shoulder as I wrapped my arm around her. We drove the rest of the way with images of our impending parenthood swirling through our eager minds.

Newport was busier than it had been in April. It seemed that many of the residents of Portland and other inland towns had the same idea that we did and sought the cool respite of the oceanside. I parked the motorcar on a side street then helped Bella out.

We strolled along the main avenue. I kept my arm around Bella, my protective instincts sharpening as we passed so many strangers. We walked until Bella found a restaurant that appealed to her. It was relatively crowded, but we found a small table in the corner. I noticed the smiles that followed us as we passed the other patrons. Bella was noticeably pregnant, but she was also radiant. It seemed that I was not the only one who could not take my eyes off of here. Perhaps this was part of the reason I felt so protective of her. Truly, she had never looked more beautiful.

Bella ordered chowder, which she devoured hungrily. I requested a slice of cherry pie for her dessert, and it met the same fate as the chowder. It pleased me that my wife, who had once eaten like a bird, now had an excellent appetite. She would keep herself and our growing baby well-nourished and strong.

After lunch, we found the little children's clothing shop, and Bella spent a long time looking at the smallest nightdresses, bonnets, and booties. The clerk, a kindly woman who reminded me of Mrs. Withers, appeared charmed by my lovely wife and her quietly excited manner.

"Is this your first?" she asked.

Bella nodded, a blush covering her cheeks.

"How wonderful!"

They chatted amiably for a few minutes, and Bella purchased a tiny nightdress. She seemed hesitant to buy anything else, even though I assured her that she should have whatever she wanted.

We left the store to find that fog was beginning to roll in, shrouding the town in a cool, damp haze.

"Do you want to head back to the cottage?" I asked, noticing that she was rubbing at her arms.

"No, not yet… Do you remember the shop where I bought Esme's scarf? Would you mind if we went there for a minute or two?"

"We can spend an hour if you like," I replied with a smile. "But I want to get your shawl from the motorcar; you're getting chilled."

She nodded. "The store is just down there around the corner. Shall I meet you there?"

"Fine. I won't be long." I kissed her cheek and hurried away.

I retrieved her wrap and strolled back toward the shop, passing several people along the way. As I approached the store, I listened instinctively for Bella's unique heartbeat. It took me a moment to identify it: It was very rapid.

"Bella!" I gasped, rushing into the shop.

She was standing near the door, her eyes wide and her skin pallid. Her hands shook slightly as she gripped a shelf for support.

"Darling, what's the matter?" I asked, taking her into the safety of my arms.

"He's here," she whispered, her gaze darting beyond me to the street.

I wrapped my fingers around her wrist to feel her quick, unsteady pulse. "Who, sweetheart?"

Breathlessly, she replied, "The man… the one who attacked me in Bend."

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><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	54. Chapter 54

**Author's Note:** I am utterly stunned that this story has received 1000 reviews. Wow. Thank you to every reader who has reviewed. You all have made writing and posting this a truly wonderful, rewarding experience. Now, on with the story, because I believe we left off at a rather tense point...

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><p>Instantly I understood. The beast who had assaulted my wife was here in Newport. I twisted my head around to scan the street. I saw two women and a family with children but no one else. Even so, I felt my protective instincts surge.<p>

"Are you certain it was him?" I asked, even though Bella's physical reaction told me that she was not mistaken.

All the color had drained from her face, leaving her ashen. She nodded, replying shakily, "He saw me, too. I think he recognized me."

"Which direction did he go?" My tone was sharp.

She lifted a trembling hand. "That way… toward the docks."

"Stay here, Bella," I instructed curtly.

I rarely spoke to my wife in such a manner, but ire and indignation were taking hold of me. I would be certain this man knew that his sadistic actions were not forgotten, were not forgiven.

"Edward, no—" she began.

The shopkeeper had noticed our interchange and began to approach us. Hastily I said, "My wife isn't feeling well. I'm going to get the motorcar… Can you stay with her until I return?"

The woman nodded sympathetically.

I looked at Bella. "Just stay here," I repeated firmly. "I'll be back very soon."

I darted out the door, my acute vision trained on each person I passed as I hastened down the street toward the waterfront. Anger coursed through me now as I remembered in explicit detail each bruise, each gouge, each scrape the despicable monster had inflicted upon my Bella. I heard her words again, describing his attack, and I could visualize him brutalizing her in the alley. My fury swelled with the memory of my conviction that he had raped her. How dare he touch my wife in any way!

I was at the docks now. I paused to sniff the air, listening intently as I did. I heard a heartbeat, and I smelled a human. I suspected that he had attempted to flee, fearing that Bella's recognition would lead to his pursuit by the sheriff. How wrong he was. Whatever he would face from the local law was nothing compared with what I planned to do to him.

I walked with silent steps, my preternatural senses leading me directly to him. He was attempting to hide behind several crates, but I knew precisely where he was. Glancing around quickly to ensure that there was no one else nearby, I leaped over the crates to land smoothly on my feet directly in front of the brute.

He gasped and muttered an expletive at my sudden appearance. Intuitively he tried to back away, but I had caught him around the throat in an instant. I felt the tightness in my own neck.

"Wha—" he spluttered.

"You were in Bend in April," I growled.

"I—"

"You were in Bend. Last April!" I tightened my grip incrementally, just enough to get his full attention. My chest felt the tightness as he struggled to draw a breath.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"There was a young woman—an innocent, kind young woman—who you pulled into an alley," I spat. "Do you remember her?"

"No…" he attempted.

I squeezed slightly harder, and his face began to darken. I ignored the constriction gnawing at me. "Do you remember her?" I repeated.

"Y… yeah…" he choked out.

"She is my wife." I felt my lips draw back over my teeth in a feral snarl. My entire body was taut with wrath, and venom prickled at the back of my throat. For the first time since I had been changed, I felt the urge to kill.

"I… I didn't know," he guttered. He lifted his hands, trying to push me away, but his feeble efforts were nothing in the face of my stony strength.

"You are the lowest of beasts," I seethed, "a contemptible coward who preys upon the innocent and the weak. How many others have you assaulted?"

His eyes were beginning to bulge now. The pressure in my chest, my throat, and my face was becoming intense. My eyes flicked to my hand. My grip was hard, the force almost sufficient to crush his trachea.

"I…" His voice was barely a rasp. "S…sorry."

"That is not enough," I uttered through clenched teeth. I lifted him, my thumb and first finger sliding up to press over his carotid artery and subclavian vein, effectively cutting off the blood supply to his brain.

"You will never harm another woman again," I growled.

Dizziness gnawed at my senses as he began to whimper in fear and pain. My chest was even heavier now, my limbs tingling with incipient numbness. Fury still roiled through me, but beneath it remained his body's sensations. For an instant I was drawn back to those early years with Carlisle, to the time when I first felt others' pain and knew what they would experience if I were to harm them.

So intent was I upon him that I did not hear the footsteps or heartbeat of another person approaching. The voice, however, was one I recognized instantly, but the abject fear in the tone was something I had never heard from her before.

"Edward!" Bella cried. "No!"

I turned my head to see her scrabbling over several crates, about fifteen yards away. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of me with my hand wrapped around the man's neck. I looked at him again, envisioning him through Bella's eyes now. His face was purple, and my knuckles at his throat were bone white.

I turned toward Bella, only to see her plummeting forward. In her effort to reach me as quickly as possible, she had stumbled, her foot catching on something as she attempted to clamber over the crates.

I released my grip on the man, flinging him to the wooden planks beneath us. He landed heavily upon his arm. I heard the snap as his ulna broke, but I cared nothing about that. My only concern now was my wife.

"Bella!" I gasped, dashing forward. But I could not catch her before she landed heavily on the dock.

I was at her side in an instant. She was face-down. I had not seen how she landed; my view had been blocked by other crates. I touched her shoulder, listening to her thudding heartbeat and labored breaths. I could hear the flutter of the baby's heart, too, but it seemed faster than usual.

"Bella," I said more softly, "sweetheart, can you hear me?"

She turned her head to look up at me. I rested my hand against her cheek. "Edward… you didn't… you didn't kill him?" Tears filled her eyes.

"No." My voice was rough and harsh, even to my own ears.

She began to push herself up on her hands, but I stopped her with my hand at her back.

Forcing my tone to soften, I said, "Wait, darling, don't try to get up yet. Let me help you roll onto your side, all right?"

She allowed me to shift her slightly. I could see a scrape on her forehead and smell a hint of blood from it. My hand moved to her hip. "Does anything hurt?" I asked.

"I…" The tears spilled down her pale cheeks. "Yes." Her hands wrapped over her abdomen.

Rationally I knew that the womb and placenta provided a significant degree of protection for the fetus. But Bella had fallen hard, and she was in pain… I inhaled slowly, testing for the scent of blood. The vague whiff I had noted before remained, but was there something more? I closed my eyes for a moment to concentrate more fully. Fresh blood was flowing from somewhere on or in Bella's body. Again I focused upon the fetal heartbeat. Was it slightly weaker now?

I was horrified to realize that this was entirely my fault. I should have stayed with her. Together we should have gone to the sheriff and reported the man. But I had allowed my instincts to take over; I had lost my rationality in my primal urge to protect Bella.

I heard a shuffling behind me. I opened my eyes to see the man stumbling away, his broken arm held protectively against his chest. His trousers were soiled, and his expression was one of utter terror. I looked away from him. He meant nothing to me now; my only concern was my injured wife.

The fog had thickened, and the air was cold and damp. Bella was shivering, both from the cold and from shock. I needed to move her; she could not remain here.

"I'm going to lift you," I told her.

She nodded weakly. Her breathing was still unsteady, but I suspected this was due more to fear than to injury. Still, I listened to the movement of the air in her lungs to be certain there was no irregularity.

As gently as possible I slid my arms around her and picked her up. She made a small noise of pain with the movement, and her hands remained curled around her belly. I could still smell fresh blood, but I saw nothing on her skirt yet. The baby's heartbeat remained audible to me yet seemed fainter.

I kept my steps as even as I could as I walked to the automobile. Carefully I laid Bella in the back seat, tucking her shawl around her. Then I started the motor and drove as quickly as possible back toward the cottage.

Bella remained silent, only answering feebly when I asked how she was doing. Her responses were imprecise murmurs. Her heart continued to beat rapidly. I winced at each bump in the road, trying to keep from jostling her and wondering if I should have carried her in my arms the entire way.

Finally we reached the house, and I lifted her from the back seat. She remained very pale, and now a fine sheen of perspiration slicked her skin. Her hands were still covering her abdomen protectively. The scent of blood lingered in the air.

I carried her inside and up the stairs, setting her gently upon the bed.

"It's going to be all right, love," I told her, tying to keep my voice from quavering.

She blinked back tears. "It hurts," she whimpered.

I nodded and began removing her clothing, tearing away her skirt in my haste to evaluate her. As soon as I had pulled away the fabric from her abdomen, her hands returned to their protective position.

"Show me where it hurts," I said.

She moved her hands slightly, indicating the area to the interior to her left hipbone. Then she touched the lower edge of her ribcage, also on the left, and said, "Here, too."

There was a smear of blood across her abdomen, just over her pubic bone. I realized it had come from her hand. I took her right wrist and turned it so that I could see her palm, where I found a ragged, two-inch laceration.

"I'll take care of this in a few minutes," I said.

"It's not important," she responded woodenly, her left hand moving again toward the swell of her belly.

I didn't believe she was even aware of the injury; she was entirely focused upon the baby.

I willed my hands to steady, then as gently as possible I examined the lower left quadrant of her abdomen, feeling carefully over the area she had shown me. It was tender, as was her hipbone, and I realized this was the site that had taken the most direct impact from her fall. While the blow had not struck her womb directly, it was still possible that the force was sufficient to cause internal damage. I worried about placental abruption. It was early in the pregnancy for this, but it was a possibility at this stage.

I continued my examination, working carefully and systematically to assess Bella for any signs of pre-term labor or abruption. She did not speak, and after a few minutes she ceased watching me, closing her eyes as fresh tears began to well.

When she felt me pull the cover over her legs, she opened her eyes to look at me. I gave her a nod and reached for her hand.

"There's no bleeding or rupture of the membranes," I told her, "and you're not dilated. Those are all very good signs."

"Mrs. McMahon was bleeding," she recalled, and I felt certain that she had been reliving the unfortunate woman's ordeal in her mind, looking for any similar symptoms.

"Yes, she was," I confirmed, squeezing her hand gently. "I'm going to check the baby's heartbeat, all right?"

She nodded. I used the fetoscope I now carried in my bag to listen assiduously to the tiny heart. It was somewhat steadier now, but it seemed weaker than usual. I was struggling to remain objective. It was easy to count the beats but more difficult to judge volume.

"The baby's heartbeat is fine," I told her, not wishing to cause her undue worry despite my own doubts. Anxiety could exacerbate any injury she had sustained.

Bella was visibly relieved. I turned my attention to her ribs. I examined them meticulously, finding to my deepest shame that she had bruised the sixth and seventh ribs rather severely. There were no fractures, thankfully, but this damage—this painful bruising—was entirely my fault.

"Nothing is broken," I reported, my voice heavy with chagrin, "but two ribs are bruised. It will be painful for a time…"

She gave me a nod of understanding. She remained very quiet, which concerned me. Certainly she had received a significant shock, but it was not like her to be so taciturn.

Still, I needed to finish assessing and treating her injuries and decided to focus upon that.

I had monitored her breathing continuously, but I still wanted to check as thoroughly as possible for any subtle evidence of injury from her fall. I listened to her lungs through my stethoscope so that I could assess the most minute function. I was relieved to find no signs of damage.

I cleaned the scrape on her forehead then attended to the cut on her hand. When I asked if she knew how she had gotten it, she replied briefly, "A nail… on one of the crates."

After I had bandaged her hand, I helped her into a soft cotton nightdress. I fluffed her pillows and covered her with Esme's hand-sewn quilt. Then I sank down at her side, taking her hand in mine.

"Darling," I began, my voice breaking, "I am so sorry."

Her eyes filled with tears again. "I was so scared, Edward," she said.

"I think the baby is all right—" I began.

But she shook her head. "No, that's not what I mean. I was—and am—worried about the baby, of course; the thought of anything happening is very frightening. But it was even more terrifying to think that you were going to kill that man."

Ignominy washed over me. I lowered my head to rest upon her shoulder, too ashamed to look at her. "Oh Bella!"

"Your expression when you left the store was so fierce, so angry, that it really scared me. I was afraid of what you were going to do, so I followed you." She took a sharp breath then continued, "And when I found you, I saw you with your hand around his throat, and you had lifted him from the ground. His face… it was so dark, and his eyes were bulging out. I knew you were choking him. To see you like that, Edward, to see the look on your face…" A sob burst forth.

"I'm so sorry," I moaned. "I was just so livid when I thought about what he did, what he wanted to do… No one has the right…"

"I know, and I understand why you felt that way. But at that moment when I truly believed you were going to kill him, I was petrified."

"Bella…"

She inhaled shakily. "But then I saw you begin to release him, and I knew that you couldn't go through with it. I knew that you had stopped yourself, that your humanity had won over your fury."

I felt her hand land softly upon my head, her fingers sliding into my hair. She rubbed gently at my scalp in a gesture so tender, so forgiving, that my throat tightened and I could not speak.

"You wouldn't have killed him," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "even if I hadn't come." Despite the softness of her tone, I heard the deep conviction in her words.

"I'm sorry," I said again, and honestly I could speak that phrase a thousand times and it would never be enough. "So sorry, my love."

"I know."

We stayed like that for a long time, neither one speaking. Her fingers continued their small movements, and after a while I dared to lift my head and look at her face. Her expression remained a little tight, but I saw no anger. She offered me a tiny smile.

"Are you in pain?" I asked, brushing the hair away from her forehead.

"My ribs are starting to ache more," she replied, "and I have a headache."

I got up so that I could sit beside her. I massaged her temples and neck lightly, hoping to alleviate some of her discomfort. Her features softened slightly, but I knew her ribs continued to pain her.

"If your ribs are really bothering you, I can give you something," I told her. "But sweetheart, I'd rather not. I hate seeing you in pain, but I don't want to mask anything else you might feel."

She understood and told me that she could manage.

"I want you to remain in bed for the next twenty-four hours," I said.

"Edward, do you think the baby is really all right?"

I nodded. "I don't see any signs to indicate otherwise, but I'm going to keep a close eye on you, and I want you to tell me if anything feels different in any way."

"I will," she promised.

"Sweetheart, I have to tell you again how sorry I am—"

"Don't," she interjected softly. "I know."

I offered her a contrite smile then, needing to do something constructive, said, "It's a bit chilly in here. I'll start a fire. Try to rest, love; it's the best thing for you."

"Yes," she responded, closing her eyes.

But her heartbeat remained slightly elevated for a long time, and I knew that some distress still lingered.

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><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	55. Chapter 55

I sat at Bella's bedside while she dozed. She did not sleep deeply, and I worried that her discomfort was preventing restful slumber. I monitored her heartrate and respiration for any signs indicative of more severe pain, and I listened to the baby's heartbeat, dreading any changes. For the moment, it was relatively strong and steady.

I used all of my senses, but I applied my auditory and olfactory abilities the most intently. I remained vigilant for even the slightest aroma of blood. I smelled none. Still, as soon as Bella woke fully I checked again for signs of early labor or abruption. I felt relieved to find nothing amiss. I asked her if she had any significant back pain or cramping, but she told me her only real discomfort was in her ribs, with some achiness in her hip, as well as a lingering headache.

"Everything seems all right," I reported as I finished examining her. However, her expression continued to reflect worry. "What is it, love?" I asked.

"I haven't felt her moving since I fell," she replied very quietly, her face paling.

This did not concern me terribly, as I had heard the baby's heartbeat consistently. However, it was a slight change from the norm, and it was clearly causing Bella some anxiety.

I took her hand and said, "You usually only feel movement a few times a day, don't you?"

She nodded hesitantly. "Yes… but it's been six hours. I think I should have felt her again by now."

"The baby's heart is beating steadily," I reassured her. "You've been lying down. You probably won't feel as much movement in this position. You haven't eaten anything either, and I know you usually feel her more after a meal…"

Did it sound like I was trying to make excuses? I was not sure. I had sensed no movement, either, when I had palpated Bella's uterus. Often I could feel a hint of motion when I had my hand resting over her womb. Still, this did not necessarily mean there was anything wrong.

"You should eat something, sweetheart," I said. "Perhaps that will nudge our little one into action."

"I'm not really hungry."

"But you still need food. I'll prepare something light for you, all right?"

She gave a nod of acquiescence, but there was no enthusiasm in it. I kissed her forehead then hurried downstairs. I heated some apple cider and toasted two pieces of bread that I slathered with butter and apricot jam, Bella's current favorite preparation. When I returned to her, she was staring out the window at the dark sky.

"I have some warm cider for you," I said, setting the tray on the night table.

Slowly and carefully I helped her to sit. She winced at the surge of pain the small action brought to her ribs, and I wondered if I should give her a low dose of morphine. It would help her to feel calmer, too. However, she balked at the suggestion, still wishing to remain alert to any new pain.

Bella sipped her cider, finishing most of the mug at my gentle urging. She ate one piece of toast but said she could not manage the other. After she was done, she told me that she needed to use the bathroom. I lifted her as gently as possible then carried her downstairs.

When she was finished, I took her back to the bedroom, settling her on her right side as I explained that some women felt movements more strongly in this position. She lay with her hand over her belly, and I knew she was waiting to feel the fluttery movements of our child. There was little I could say or do to comfort her, so I simply lay behind her with my hand lightly over her hip. Perhaps the coolness of my skin would ease the ache from the bruise. If only I could ease the ache caused my violent and deplorable actions…

Bella finally fell asleep, and I made sure she was covered and warm. I remained at her side throughout the night, listening to the fluttery beating of the baby's heart. Bella's sleep was fitful; her eyes moved beneath her pale lids as dreams formed in her mind. I could guess the theme of these visions from the tightening of her brow and the tiny whimpers that slipped from her lips. She had witnessed a nightmare, and now it was plaguing her dreams. With a heavy heart, I kissed her face and murmured gentle words at her ear until she calmed and returned to more peaceful slumber.

Several times when Bella shifted, she moaned softly and her heart quickened. She was in pain. Fearfully I pressed my hand over her abdomen to feel for any indication of contractions but found none.

When she rolled onto her back, I let my hand remain between her hips, trying desperately to feel any movements from within her womb. I sensed nothing; the fetus was still. But its tiny heart continued to function.

That night was one of the longest in my existence. Bella's nightmares, her physical discomfort, and, most prominently, fear for our child, left me extremely apprehensive. With each breath I took, I dreaded scenting blood. Sometimes I lay without a single inhalation for many minutes, fearing what I might smell if I dared to breathe. Then the shame of my cowardice led me to inhale deeply even as my jaw clenched with worry.

When the gray light of dawn began to seep through the window, I felt Bella stir.

"Edward," she murmured, reaching for me.

I took her gently in my arms and kissed her temple. "Sshh, love, it's all right. I'm here. It's still very early. Go back to sleep."

"Mmn, no… I need to get up."

"I'll carry you to the bathroom, sweetheart."

She blinked sleepily at me. "No… my back hurts. I need to move it, to stand up."

Lower back pain was a symptom often accompanying placental abruption. This concerned me deeply. However, I tried to keep my voice calm as I said, "I don't want you to get up yet. Do you hurt anywhere else?"

She was fully awake now. She looked at me, reading the concern in my face despite my attempts to mask it. She understood that she needed to be completely honest with me. "My ribs and hip are very sore," she replied softly.

"Is there anything else, darling? Any abdominal pain?"

She considered this for a few moments before answering. "I'm not sure. My back really hurts, and the other pain from my ribs and hip are sort of all blending together…"

I slid my hand under her gown to feel over her womb again. She gasped and flinched when I touched her, and I froze. "Is this tender?"

"No, not really. Your hand is just very cold."

The room was chilly, I realized, and the cool air made my skin seem even icier. "I'm sorry, love," I apologized. I waited several seconds then began probing gently again. She did not tense any further. "Any pain?" I asked.

"Not there."

"Have you felt any movements?"

She shook her head. Her eyes were teary now.

"Well, you just woke up," I said, attempting to assuage some of her fears. It was difficult, though, when my own remained. "The baby's heartbeat is still steady; it hasn't changed all night."

This seemed to ease her mind slightly. Her own heart slowed slightly. "That's good, right?"

"It is." I placed my hand upon her shoulder. "I'm going to help you roll onto your side so that I can take a look at your back."

We accomplished this, but the movements were painful for her. I examined her back carefully, noting particular tenderness as I palpated the thoracolumbar fascia. This appeared to be the site from which her pain radiated.

"I think you pulled a muscle when you fell," I told her, deep remorse my voice. "I'm so sorry, love."

"Are you sure that's all it is?"

"I'm fairly certain. We'll get some heat on the area, and that should help. I'd really like to give you something for the pain, too." I stroked her cheek tenderly. She remained quite pale, but she felt warm to me.

"The heat is fine," she replied. "But I don't want anything that will make it harder to _feel_."

She was desperate to sense our child's movements. I understood this completely, but it was wrenching to see her in so much discomfort. She needed to use the bathroom, so I carried her downstairs again. The entire process was a painful one; each small motion left her pallid and clammy. I helped her as much as I could then returned her to bed.

She settled on her right side while I prepared several hot towels. When the first was ready, I applied it to her back. She told me that some of the pain was easing with the heat. As the towel began to cool, I immersed my hands in scalding water to warm them then massaged the injured muscle for several minutes. This was followed by another hot towel.

Once Bella was more comfortable, I prepared a small breakfast of weak tea with milk, a scrambled egg, and a slice of toast. She managed to eat the egg and drink the tea, then she told me she was tired and wished to sleep again. She still had not felt the baby move, and her despondency was growing.

I kissed her gently then said, "Give me just a moment…" as I reached for my stethoscope. I listened to the baby's steady little heart for several long moments, smiling as I did. "Would you like to hear it?" I asked.

Bella nodded, although she looked anxious. I helped her with the earpieces then held the bell over her womb. She was entirely still for a handful of seconds, then tears filled her eyes.

"I hear it!" she cried softly.

"Of course you do," I replied gently. "It sounds just fine."

She listened for over a minute, finally permitting me to take the instrument and help her into the most comfortable position possible.

"But I still haven't felt her move," she said.

"You will, darling; I'm sure of it." I kissed her cheek then moved to stoke the fire. I wanted the room to be as warm as possible. "Try to rest, love," I advised tenderly.

"Would you read to me?"

"Of course."

A volume of Robert Barrett Browning's poetry sat on the dresser. I retrieved it then settled next to her and began to read.

Bella's eyes closed, and soon she was sleeping. I resisted the urge to kiss her again, settling for stroking her hair softly instead.

* * *

><p>Bella woke after two hours. Her sleep had been fitful, however. Clearly she was uncomfortable. I had remained alert for any hints of bleeding and had paid careful attention to her breathing and heartbeat. However, I had refrained from touching her, fearing that I might disturb her slumber.<p>

When she opened her eyes, I rested my hand against her cheek, craving contact with her skin. It felt so warm, so soft…

"Hi," she murmured.

"Good morning. How are you feeling?"

"Sore…back and ribs…" She paused, one hand moving to the gentle swell of her belly.

She sighed; she had been hoping the sense some movement. It had now been nearly a day since she had felt anything. Yet the baby's tiny heartbeat remained unchanged. I was unsure how to interpret this. I tried to focus upon the positive signs, though.

She curled into herself slightly with a little moan. I knew each motion brought more pain to her tender ribs and aching back.

"Sweetheart," I began, "let me give you something—"

"No, Edward, it's not that bad. I just feel really warm."

I pressed my hand over her cheek again then felt the sensitive skin at her neck. She was definitely warmer than usual; she was feverish. I pulled a thermometer from my bag.

"I think you may have a bit of a fever," I told her.

She nodded miserably and opened her mouth. I rubbed lightly at her temples while we waited for the thermometer to register. Her temperature was 99.8—just enough to leave her even more uncomfortable.

"Am I sick?" she asked.

"Most likely it's just a reaction to the injuries."

While this was true, I worried that she could be developing an infection; pulmonary involvement was not uncommon with rib injury. I had not heard any irregularities in her breathing, but I spent some time listening to her lungs with the stethoscope in case I had missed something. I found no signs of infection, however; her lungs sounded clear.

I checked her hand next, carefully unwrapping the bandage. The wound had some redness and mild swelling around it, but there were no indications of sepsis. I cleaned it thoroughly with carbolic acid solution then applied a fresh bandage. I would watch the wound closely in the hopes of avoiding anything more serious from developing.

I examined her abdomen again, too, and felt her lymph nodes. They were not tender, and I found no enlargement.

When I had finished, I tucked the blankets around her and kissed her forehead. "The best thing for you is rest, my love," I told her.

"I am still tired," she admitted.

"Then sleep. You deserve a lazy afternoon."

She glanced at the clock on the dresser. "It's nearly noon already… and it's Saturday. Oh dear, Carlisle and Esme are supposed to come tonight!"

I knew this, of course. I had felt some small measure of comfort at the thought of my father's presence. His professional skills would be most welcome at this time. I longed for Esme's caring arms, too. She would make both Bella and me feel better, no matter the circumstances.

"Yes," I replied.

"But the house needs to be straightened up, and here I am, in bed…"

"Sshh, love, it's fine. The condition of the house means nothing to them. All they care about is seeing us. They will understand completely."

She saw the truth in my eyes. She gave me a small nod and seemed to relax a bit. I promised to tidy the house while she rested. I sat with her until she fell asleep, then I darted downstairs to straighten the pillows on the sofa and the rug before the hearth. I felt a pang as I realized that only twenty-four hours ago Bella and I were entwined upon this rug, relishing each other's bodies with no inkling of what the afternoon would bring—of what my impetuous, utterly foolish, feral actions would wreak. Had I kept my emotions in check and simply reported Bella's attacker to the sheriff, she would be sitting here with me now, laughing and nuzzling and delighting in the small movements of our child.

My mood was bleak for a long time, and I hesitated to return to the bedroom, although I monitored Bella's heart and breathing to ensure that she was well. Finally I climbed the stairs and knelt next to the bed. She was deeply asleep and did not stir when I touched her cheek softly to check her temperature. She remained feverish.

When she woke a short time later, I took her temperature again. It was unchanged. She was still very sore and quite uncomfortable, although more heat and massage applied to her back offered her some small relief. I was putting away the towels downstairs when I heard her cry out.

I rushed up to the bedroom to find her sitting up, hunched over with her hands wrapped around her belly. Immediately I smelled salt and knew she was crying.

"Darling, what's wrong?" I asked, inhaling again despite the dread of what else I would smell.

She looked up at me, her flushed cheeks wet with tears. "The baby, Edward…" She seemed to choke on a sob.

"What is it?" I tried to move her hands, but she kept them firmly in place.

She took a breath and let it out, then she smiled at me. "I felt it… I felt her move!"

"Oh sweetheart, that's wonderful!" I embraced her and kissed her cheeks and brow. Then I asked, "May I feel?"

She nodded and moved her hands. I placed mine over her womb and waited, but I felt nothing.

"Do you feel it?" she asked excitedly. "Right there!"

I thought I could sense a vague movement, but I was unsure. I could still hear the heartbeat, but any obvious stirrings eluded me. Often I could feel the tiny vibrations when Bella could not… But I did not wish to upset her, so I said, "Yes."

She was elated, and, while her fever and soreness remained, she was in much better spirits throughout the evening. She ate a small supper and wanted to brush and braid her hair. She told me shortly before eight o'clock that she had felt the baby move again. I smiled and kissed her.

I took her temperature a little while later. It remained just under 100. She fell asleep while I was replacing a few items in my bag; she was still exhausted. I sat beside her, my body motionless, for a very long time.

I did not move until I heard the distant rumble of an automobile engine. It was just after midnight. Carlisle and Esme were driving down the narrow road toward the cottage. I looked at my beautiful, kind, endlessly forgiving wife, noting the light flush that still covered her cheeks and the tiny crease between her brows indicative of lingering pain even in slumber.

"I love you so much," I whispered, then I walked downstairs to wait for my parents.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	56. Chapter 56

When I heard the motorcar stop, I went outside, not wishing to risk waking Bella. The night was dark; fog shrouded the moonlight. However, my parents and I could see clearly, and the moment their eyes took in my wretched expression and defeated posture they knew that something was wrong.

Esme's arms were around me instantly. "What's happened, Edward?" she asked, her voice tremulous with fear.

"It's Bella," I began. "She's hurt."

"Son?" Carlisle questioned, his hand firm upon my shoulder. "Tell us."

I took a breath then began, my words slipping out so quickly they would only be heard as a light hiss to a human's ears. Carlisle and Esme heard them perfectly, however.

"Last April, only a few weeks after we returned from our honeymoon, Bella went with the Webers to Bend. She was attacked there, dragged into an alley by a vile creature with the most despicable intent."

Esme gasped, and Carlisle's grip on my shoulder tightened. I continued.

"She managed to fight back, and she got away before he completed his reprehensible acts. But he hurt her; he left bruises and scratches, and he put his filthy, depraved hands on her. She… she wasn't seriously injured, thank God, but the thought of what he wanted to do, what he could have done…" I had to stop as a dry sob wrenched from my chest.

Esme's hand moved over my back soothingly, while Carlisle nodded, his expression reflecting deep sympathy that overrode his obvious revulsion and anger.

"She saw him," I said once I could speak again, "yesterday, in Newport. I had gone to get her shawl because the fog came in, and I was worried she'd become chilled… I should never have left her, not for a moment…"

"He assaulted her again?" Esme asked, horrified.

I shook my head. "No. But he saw her, too, and he must have recognized her because he ran off. The moment she told me, I went after him." Now my voice dropped with shame. "I found him on the docks. Bella followed me—I didn't know she had—I'd told her to remain in the shop—but she didn't. She was climbing over some crates, and she fell."

Esme gasped, and Carlisle's eyes widened. "How far?" he asked.

"A few feet," I replied. "But she fell hard. Her hipbone and two ribs are badly bruised, and she injured her thoracolumbar fascia."

"A muscle in the lower back," Carlisle quickly explained to Esme. Then, his expression utterly grim, he asked me, "Has she suffered an abruption?" Even as he spoke, he was inhaling carefully, testing the air for any hint of blood.

I shook my head. "No…"

"Are there any signs of pre-term labor?"

"Nothing specific," I replied. "No uterine tenderness, bleeding, or dilation."

"Is the baby's heart still beating?" he asked gravely.

"Yes."

Both of my parents exhaled sighs of relief.

"But," I continued, "she didn't feel the baby move for over twenty-four hours. She said she felt it earlier tonight, but I could sense nothing. I'm afraid she imagined it; I'm afraid of what it means if the baby really hasn't moved…"

Esme pulled me into her arms again, while Carlisle's hand rubbed comfortingly over my back. No one spoke for a long minute as I attempted to rein in my emotions and regain my rationality.

Finally, Carlisle said, "If you've seen no troubling symptoms yet, most likely the baby is fine. How is Bella doing?"

"She's running a fever," I responded morosely. "99.8 as of four hours ago."

"Oh my," Esme murmured. "Poor dear…"

"She's in considerable pain, too, from the bruising," I added, "but she won't let me give her anything; she's afraid it will affect her ability to feel the baby's movements."

"Is she sleeping now?" Carlisle asked.

I nodded. "Yes. But I'd like you to see her."

"Of course," he replied immediately.

"I'll wake her and let her know that you're here," I said, turning to go into the house.

"Edward," Esme's soft voice stopped me. "I know there isn't anything I can do to help, but may I see her for a moment, too?"

"Your presence will be a great comfort to her," I said.

Then I hurried upstairs. Bella was soundly asleep, and I hated to wake her. However, I knew it was necessary, so I began stroking her hot cheek and speaking softly to her. After a few moments she roused and blinked drowsily at me. I adjusted the flame in the bedside lantern, casting the room in a soft glow.

"Mmm, Edward…"

"I'm sorry to wake you, love, but Carlisle and Esme are here. They would very much like to see you."

"Oh…" She rubbed a hand over her eyes, becoming more alert. "When did they arrive?"

"Just a few minutes ago. May I ask them to come up now?"

"Do they know…" Her hands moved to her belly. "Did you tell them what happened?"

I nodded and kissed her warm forehead. "Yes, darling."

"All right."

"Carlisle, Esme," I said, "would you please come up now?"

I heard them ascending the stairs at a human pace. Bella shifted, wishing to sit up, but I told her that it was not necessary. I gave her a second pillow and smoothed the blankets to try to make her more comfortable.

Esme knocked softly on the open door. Bella's eyes moved to the doorway, and the moment she saw Esme she smiled. My mother was at her side immediately, kissing her cheek and taking her hand.

"Honey," Esme said, "we're so sorry…"

Bella nodded. "I think I'm all right."

Carlisle walked to the bed and bent to kiss her forehead. "Bella, dear, how are you feeling?" he asked, automatically resting his hand against her cheek.

"A little sore," she replied, "but it's not too bad."

He glanced quickly at me as he lifted his hand. "Still feverish," he said, too low for Bella to hear.

"I'd like to check your temperature again," I told her.

She gave a nod. Esme took a step back, saying, "I'll just wait downstairs..."

"No," Bella said, reaching for her hand. "Please stay… if you don't mind."

Esme smiled softly, clearly pleased by the request. "Of course, honey."

Her presence seemed to calm and comfort Bella. Esme sat down near Bella's shoulder as I slid the thermometer into her mouth. Carlisle's stance and intent expression showed me that he was assessing her silently. Still, I was anxious for him to perform a more thorough evaluation.

Once the thermometer had registered and he and I had both seen the results—her fever was 99.6 now—I told her that I wished to check her abdomen again. I folded the blankets over her hips and slid up her nightdress to reveal the swell of her belly. She flushed a bit more deeply, her eyes moving to Carilsle, who stood beside me. However, his warm, reassuring smile calmed her, as did Esme's soft caresses upon her brow.

I felt over her womb, eliciting no indications of tenderness or pain from her. When I had finished, Carlisle looked at her and asked graciously, "May I, dear?"

She nodded, and I watched as his practiced hands moved carefully over her abdomen. He spent longer than I had, pressing lightly in several areas. His fingers gently explored the deep bruising at her hip, too. Then he asked for my stethoscope and spent some time listening to the baby's heartbeat.

Bella was becoming anxious; we could all hear her heart begin to quicken. Esme smoothed a hand over her hair and smiled lovingly, the gesture soothing my wife a bit.

Finally Carlisle looked up, passing the stethoscope back to me. "The baby's heartbeat is very steady and strong," he told Bella.

She sighed in relief. Automatically my hand returned to her abdomen, my fingers rubbing softly over the smooth, warm skin.

"Oh!" Bella gasped suddenly, her hand moving quickly to press beside mine.

I looked up, alarmed. "Does this hurt?"

Carlisle and Esme were both watching me now, their expressions reflecting concern.

"No," Bella said, a little grin forming upon her beautiful mouth. "I just felt the baby move again."

I stilled, focusing upon the sensations against my hand. And I definitely felt it—the small stirrings of our child. "Yes," I said with a very relieved smile, "I feel it, too." For a very long moment I remained motionless.

Carlisle's fingers brushed over my hand. "May I?" he asked quietly and reverently.

Bella nodded, moving her hand to the side of her belly. I lifted my hand so that he could rest his directly over her womb. He smiled at the tiny shifting he could easily feel.

"Wonderful," he proclaimed.

Esme's hand joined his, and she beamed as she, too, sensed the movement. "Oh my," she breathed.

"I think she likes having her grandparents here," Bella said with a little laugh. This brought renewed smiles to all within the room.

Eventually, however, the cool palms pressed over Bella sent a little shiver through her. Quickly Carlisle and Esme removed their hands.

"I'd like Carlisle to check your ribs, just as a precaution," I said. Bella nodded agreeably as I glanced up at him.

"Of course," he replied.

I shifted the fabric of her gown a bit more to expose the injured area. I heard Esme gasp softly when she saw the discolored skin. "That looks so painful!" she exclaimed so that only Carlisle and I could make out her words.

I nodded guiltily then waited while he evaluated the injury, his sensitive fingers feeling gently over the bruised ribs. Then I helped her to sit up, and he listened to her lungs, asking her to inhale as deeply as she could several times.

Finally Carlisle finished. He removed the stethoscope and passed it to me, keeping his eyes upon Bella's face. His smile was genuine as he said, "I think both Edward and I are in agreement that the baby is fine. My main concern now is you, dear. It's very important that you rest. I'd like you to remain in bed for another day, or until your fever is gone."

"Will the fever harm the baby?" she asked.

"No," he replied, then he explained kindly, "but it means that your body needs more time to recover. The healthier you are, the better it is for the baby."

"So you just let us take care of you," Esme added.

"I'm afraid your mother-in-law plans to pamper you shamelessly," Carlisle said with a chuckle.

"I do," Esme agreed.

"But right now," I said, noting the dark circles beneath my wife's eyes, "you need to sleep."

Bella nodded, shifting slightly in an attempt to find a comfortable position. She winced as the movements brought renewed pain to her tender ribs and sore back.

"Sweetheart," Carlisle said, "it's very important that you sleep. May I give you a small does of morphine to help?" His voice was full of care, concern, and subtle persuasion.

She seemed slightly mesmerized by him. He had a special talent for convincing his patients to comply with his orders. She nodded. "All right…"

"Good girl," he complimented.

I prepared a syringe and handed it to him. He gave her the injection quickly and painlessly. Then he kissed her cheek and wished her sweet dreams. Esme did the same before they left the room.

As the drug began to take effect, I changed the bandage on Bella's hand. The wound was still showing signs of minor infection, so I cleaned it thoroughly then applied a fresh bandage. Fortunately the morphine prevented her from feeling more than dull discomfort as I worked.

I remained at Bella's side until she was in deep slumber. Even then I hesitated to leave her. But there was something I needed to do, something my conscience demanded. I needed to confess my sins to my parents. They needed to hear about my moments of monstrosity. With heavy steps, I left my wife and walked down the stairs.

Carlisle and Esme were seated before the hearth. A fire glowed warmly, casting the room in soft light. Esme held out her hand to me as I approached them. I took it, deeply appreciative of the comforting gesture.

She smiled at me, but there was a tightness beneath her pleasant expression. I noticed that her eyes had darkened, too. She must have noted the faint hints of blood when Carlisle injected the morphine and then again as I tended to Bella's hand.

"Darling," Carlisle said, rubbing her shoulder gently, "you should hunt. Bella will sleep for several hours; there's nothing you can do for her at the moment."

Esme was struggling to remain in full control. A slight tremor shook her lower lip. She looked at me apologetically. "I'll prepare breakfast for her when I return," she said.

"I'm sure she'll love it," I said, kissing Esme's cheek. "Thank you."

She rose, sparing a moment so that Carlisle could brush his lips over her hand, then she darted from the room. I heard the soft click of the door a moment later. Carlisle gestured for me to sit beside him, and I sank down heavily.

"Son," he began, obviously sensing my continued distress, "Bella and the baby really are fine. I know you don't trust your professional instincts entirely when your wife and child are concerned, but trust mine: They are in no danger."

I nodded. "I know. Thank you."

He waited, his expression reflecting his curiosity at my simmering misery. "Edward," he prompted gently after a few moments, "what's bothering you?"

"It's my fault," I declared softly yet vehemently. "She's hurt—and the baby could have been endangered—because of me."

"I'm not sure I understand."

I lowered my head to my hands, my fingers gripping at my hair. "I wanted to kill that brute," I admitted. "I had my hand around his throat; he couldn't breathe…"

I felt Carlisle's fingers clutch my shoulder. His voice remained relatively calm, however.

"How badly did you injure him?"

"I'm not sure… He was able to walk away. His trachea is probably bruised, at the least, and he fractured his ulna when I flung him away."

My father said nothing. He was waiting for me to continue.

"That's the reason Bella got hurt," I explained bereftly. "When she told me she'd seen him, my reason left me. All I could think about—all I could feel—was the desire for revenge. I wanted to hurt him, to make him suffer, for what he'd done to her." The admission left me breathless for a few moments.

Carlisle remained silent, but his hand pressed softly against my back. When I could continue again, I lifted my head to look at him, meeting his concerned yet encouraging gaze.

"You have to understand," I attempted to clarify, "how I felt when Ben told me Bella had been attacked. He had dropped her at the house, left her with Angela, while he came to get me at the office… and when he told me what had happened, I believed she had been assaulted in the worst way possible. I believed that bastard had violated her, and even when she told me that he hadn't, a shadow of doubt remained in my mind."

I swallowed and took a deep breath. Carlisle gave me a nod of understanding. His expression reflected his own pain at hearing my words.

"And," I continued, "when I discovered that Bella was pregnant, it all came back to me. I could think of no other explanation—I was certain that he had raped her and left her with child."

"Oh Edward," Carlisle sighed, shaking his head sadly, "I'm so sorry. I can only imagine how terrible that must have been for you."

"I think it was even worse for her," I confided. "She swore that he hadn't done that, and she was deeply hurt that I wouldn't believe her. I thought she had repressed the memory…" I took another shaky breath, the emotions I'd felt during that horrible time washing over me anew. "It wasn't until I heard the faint beating of the baby's heart a day or so later that I realized I was the father. But up to that point, for those interminable hours, I imagined over and over again what he had done to her."

"Son, I wish you'd told me this before," Carlisle said gently. "You've kept all of this to yourself, haven't you?"

I nodded miserably.

"With that level of emotion, it's no wonder you felt your control slipping when you were faced with the beast who attacked Bella. I understand."

I had not expected this response from him. I deserved chastisement at the very least. I blinked at him in true surprise. "You do?"

He nodded.

"But I acted like an animal," I said, "little more than a feral monster, without rationality—"

"Our natures are primal at heart," he agreed. "But, as intelligent, cogent beings, you, Esme, and I have learned to overcome our basic drives to a significant degree. In this way, we are much like humans. And, like them, we are driven to protect those we love."

"But I nearly committed murder," I interjected.

"Yet you did not complete the act," he reminded me. "Did Bella stop you?"

"No… I had begun to release him before I knew she was there."

"I see. So, in fact, you stopped yourself. Your rationality returned."

"Yes… but only at the last moment."

"That is the moment which counts the most," he said with a mirthless grin.

We sat silently for several minutes, each immersed in our own thoughts. Finally he spoke again.

"If you were to encounter this man again," he said, "what would you do?"

"I would restrain him and deliver him to the nearest sheriff or deputy," I replied immediately.

He gave me a nod. "Do you still harbor a desire to harm him?"

Reluctantly I responded, "Yes."

"Will it surprise you to hear that I do, too?"

Indeed it did. "Carlisle, what…"

"This man—this blackguard—hurt Bella, someone about whom I care very much. If I were to meet him with awareness of his identity, I am certain that I would wish to harm him, too. It is a basic emotional response. This doesn't mean that I would act upon it, but the impulse would certainly be there."

"But you live by the tenet, 'First do no harm.'"

He smiled thinly. "'Do no harm.' It doesn't mean that I have never thought about hurting someone. When I've treated victims of violence, particularly children and women brutalized by those they trusted, I have felt a very strong desire to hurt their abusers, to inflict pain upon them, to punish them for their sins. Did you think I never felt such inclinations?"

"I suppose I never really considered it before. You are always so gentle, so compassionate, so concerned with bringing comfort to your patients… "

"I try very hard to ease pain, to heal when I can," he acknowledged. "But that does not preclude me from harboring anger when I know that a person has been mistreated. Once or twice I have come close to bringing physical pain to the culprits."

"Really?"

He nodded. "In the end, I settled for a stern warning and a word to the proper authorities. But Edward, the urge was there."

"What stopped you?" I questioned, morbidly fascinated at this previously unknown facet of his character.

"The largest factor, honestly, was fear of repercussions if I were ever found out. I enjoy my work too much to jeopardize it. But there are moral constraints, too. In the end, I suppose it was a combination of pragmatism and morality that prevented me from delivering vengeance to those reprehensible creatures. But, like you, I came close." He gave a small shrug. "We cannot deny our natures, son. The best we can do is to understand them and deal with them in the most positive ways possible."

While Bella's injuries would always weigh heavily upon me, Carlisle's words provided me with a measure of expiation. I embraced him.

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome, son."

When we finally drew apart, we sat amiably watching the crackling logs and dancing flames for many minutes, both of our consciences lighter at our shared confessions.

* * *

><p>True to her word, Esme indulged Bella's every whim, including several my wife was not even aware of having. I believe it was the combination of continued rest, my mother's ministrations, my father's watchful professional eye, and—most significantly—the tiny stirrings of our child—that helped Bella to regain much of her health and vigor.<p>

Her fever was gone by late afternoon, and her back was feeling much better. Both Esme and I had spent time applying hot towels and massaging the sore muscles throughout the morning and early afternoon. Our efforts seemed to have salutary effects.

I entered the kitchen shortly after 4:00 to get a glass of milk for Bella. Esme was preparing a stew for my wife's supper. She looked up at me, her expression odd.

"Esme?" I questioned. "Is something the matter?"

She shook her head and offered me a tight smile. "No… everything is fine, I think." Her eyes darted to the door.

I realized that Carlisle was not inside the house. I asked where he was.

"He's gone to do an errand," she replied rather cryptically.

She would say no more, but I could tell that she was worried. Carlisle did not return until sunset. He stepped through the door, his black bag clutched in his hand. Esme rushed to his embrace, and several long seconds of silent communication seemed to pass between them. Then he nodded and kissed her gently.

Esme had been braiding Bella's hair when Carlisle reappeared. I knew my mother's tender ministrations calmed my wife. Indeed, I felt certain that Bella's significantly improved condition was due in large part to Esme's care.

"Everything is fine now," Carlisle reassured Esme.

She nodded. "I should finish with Bella…" She hesitated.

"Yes," Carlisle agreed. He kissed her brow, then she ascended the stairs at a slow, human pace, glancing back several times. I knew that she would hear any conversation that ensued.

"Carlisle?" I questioned. "What's going on? Where did you go?"

He set his bag beside the door then gestured for me to follow him to the sofa. We both sat. He exhaled once, deliberately, before turning to face me.

"I returned to the docks," he told me, holding up a hand to stop the inevitable queries burbling up in me. "It wasn't hard to find his scent; urine leaves a strong, distinctive odor." His nose wrinkled slightly at this thought. "Given the nature of his injuries, I suspected he wouldn't be able to travel very far. I followed his scent for about two miles, outside of town. I found him hiding in an abandoned fishing shack."

Here he paused to draw another slow breath. Our gazes met. There was something in his darkened eyes that I had never seen before.

"Carlisle…" I swallowed hard. "What did you do?"

"I made sure he will never harm another person again."

I could not speak the words. I gripped his hand hard.

"I didn't kill him, Edward," he said softly, "but God help me, I wanted to. When he saw me enter the shack with my bag, he asked for my help. He thought he was _lucky _that a doctor happened upon him." A sardonic chuckle rumbled in his chest. "He was feverish from the injury; it was a comminuted fracture—extremely painful, as you know. He had attempted to set it himself, but it was all wrong."

I waited; he seemed to require a few moments before he could speak again.

"It took a great deal of will power for me to remain calm," he finally said. "I asked him how he'd been hurt, and he told me he had been attacked. His heart raced as he told me; I knew he'd been terrified by you. I asked what had provoked the attack, and mumbled something about a mistake but would say no more. I offered him something for his pain, and he readily accepted. I gave him morphine—not enough induce sleep, but an amount sufficient to loosen his inhibitions. Then I questioned him. I think by that point my anger had become obvious; I could suppress it no more. I told him that I knew he had attacked a young woman in Bend last April. I felt certain that Bella was not his only victim, so I insisted he tell me about other assaults he'd committed. Between the morphine and my firmness in questioning, he confessed. Edward, that brute has attacked half a dozen women throughout the state. I elicited locations and approximate dates, and then I administered another dose of morphine to render him unconscious."

He paused again, and I could see a flicker of guilt in his eyes.

"Carlisle," I urged, "what else did you do?"

He sighed. "God forgive me, I _reset_ his arm… and unless he finds another physician to repair my work soon, he will never have full use of the limb again."

Carlisle had never intentionally harmed a patient before, so his confession was somewhat shocking to me. Upstairs, I heard Esme inhale sharply. I squeezed his hand; there was little else I could do.

"Did you leave him there?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I took him back to Newport and delivered him to the sheriff. I said I had found him in an alleyway, barely conscious, and that in his delirium he had confessed his transgressions to me. I urged the sheriff to check to see if this lout was wanted elsewhere, and indeed he was. There were several notices in the office. The brute is locked in a jail cell now, and the sheriff assured me that he will be dealt with appropriately." He closed his eyes for a moment. "And even if he isn't—even if he should go free—I feel certain that he will never assault another human being. Between his arm and the fear you and I instilled in him, he will not dare to return to his savage ways."

"Thank you," I said quietly. I felt a lingering weight lifted from my chest.

He nodded. I knew he did not feel that he deserved gratitude for what he perceived as the harshest of actions, yet I was sure he did not regret his acts.

Unable to stay away any longer, Esme flitted to his side, her arms wrapping around him. "Oh my darling," she murmured as he rested his head against her bosom. "I love you so."

"Yes," I agreed, wrapping my hand around his shoulder.

We remained silent for several minutes, then Esme spoke again. Her voice was hesitant. "Is there any danger… any chance that cad will reveal anything about you?"

I understood what she was asking. It was possible that the man could expose us.

Carlisle shook his head. "It's very unlikely," he replied. He was calmer now, more composed. "I told the sheriff I was a doctor visiting from Boise and used a false name, so I cannot be easily traced. If that brute does try to tell the sheriff or anyone else about his altercation with you, Edward, it is doubtful that he would be believed."

I think we all felt a measure of relief. Bella's attacker would see full justice, and he would never repeat his reprehensible actions. When my wife was stronger, I would tell her this news. But for now, it was enough to know that my father had sacrificed his most sacrosanct principles for Bella.

I thanked him again, then he said he wished to spend some time with Bella.

"That will please her," I responded.

He went upstairs, and I heard the tenderness in his voice when he spoke to her. I understood that it had taken a great deal of effort for him to defy his gentle nature.

"Will he be all right?" I asked Esme very softly.

She nodded. "I think so. I imagine he will insist on doing as much charity work as possible, and his patients will receive the finest care…" She smiled a bit sadly. "He will find a way to atone."

"Are you all right?" I questioned, concerned that her husband's uncharacteristic actions had affected her.

"Yes, I am," she replied honestly. "I'm glad he did that. Such horrible people cannot walk about scot-free."

Her voice was quiet but vehement. She had once suffered ill treatment at her former husband's hand. She rarely spoke of it—barely even alluded to it—but I knew she retained some memory of him. Perhaps Carlisle's actions were for here, as well as for Bella.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	57. Chapter 57

That evening, I carried my beautiful wife downstairs so that we could all sit before the fire and visit. Comfortably ensconced upon the sofa, Bella chatted amiably; the wonderful, soft animation I had always adored left her aglow. She was happy and optimistic once again. The baby was moving regularly, and both Carlisle and I had confirmed that it was in no danger.

Carlisle and Esme embraced and kissed Bella before I helped her up the stairs and back into bed for the night. They planned to leave before dawn, so she would not see them again for several weeks. She fell into a peaceful sleep quickly, so I slipped downstairs again to spend a few more hours with my parents.

Their visit ended too soon, of course, but we bid farewell in good spirits. I thanked them for all their help and care, and several fond embraces were exchanged before they finally climbed into their motorcar and drove off, waving until they were out of sight.

I returned to the bedroom and shed my clothing, changing into thermal long johns. Then I got into bed and stretched out beside Bella, molding my body around hers. Even in sleep, she seemed aware of my presence and wriggled closer to me. I held her for the rest of the night, listening to the two heartbeats I adored.

* * *

><p>The next morning I told Bella that her assailant was in jail. I did not provide all of the details. I simply told her that Carlisle had found him and taken him to the sheriff. She was surprised initially, then she appeared relieved to know that the brute was incarcerated. I felt that the incident was behind us for the most part. Still, my wife needed to heal.<p>

We remained at the beach house for another five days. I did not wish to risk Bella's full recovery by making the long automobile journey until I felt assured that she was once again in good health. Carlisle had wired the Webers for me, asking them to notify the townspeople that we had been delayed but would return by the following Monday. I had several patients scheduled and did not wish to inconvenience them. Fortunately none were pressing cases, although I disliked delaying my bi-weekly consultation with Mrs. Withers.

While the safety of my wife and child would always come first, I worried that patients might suffer when I was not available. And without Bella's presence, I could not treat them consistently.

I continued to ponder the situation during the long drive back to Madras. I also watched Bella carefully to ensure her relative comfort. I tried to avoid any bumps or dips in the road so that the ride would be as smooth as possible. Even so, by the time we finally reached our home, she was tired and sore.

I carried her inside and up to our bedroom, where she sank comfortably into the soft bedding. She slept well that night, although she remained sore in the morning. I prepared a warm bath for her and gently massaged her shoulders and back as she relaxed in the water.

After breakfast, Bella told me that she felt fairly good. I wanted to go into town for a short time, but I felt that she should rest for several more days. The ordeal at the beach house had truly frightened her, so she did not argue with me when I told her that it would be best for her to remain at home while I went to the office.

She did express a concern to me, however. "You won't see any patients, will you?" she asked worriedly.

"No, love," I replied. "I'd like to check on Mrs. Withers, but I won't need to touch her. I'm going to stop at the store first to let the Webers know that we're back."

I hoped that Angela would be able to leave the store for an hour or so and visit Bella. I disliked the idea of leaving my wife alone, just in case she might need something. I kissed her cheek then left for town.

Angela was just finishing with a customer when I entered the store. As the man turned, I realized that it was Mr. McMahon.

"Dr. Cullen," he said with a nod.

"Mr. McMahon, how is the family?" I greeted, smiling over his shoulder at Angela. She gave me a welcoming grin.

Mr. McMahon replied, "Everyone's fine."

He was a man of few words, but he gave me another nod as he passed me. Angela was still smiling. She stepped around the counter.

"Welcome back," she said.

"Thank you. How is Rosemary?"

"She's got a bit of diaper rash and is a little fussy, but aside from that she's doing well. She's growing like a weed!"

I laughed. "Babies will do that."

"How is Bella? I thought she'd be with you…"

My expression sobered. "She's at home."

Angela read the emotion in my face. "Edward? Is she all right? Did… did something happen? Your telegram didn't say why you were staying at the coast longer."

"Bella is fine," I replied quickly, not wishing to alarm our gentle friend. "But there was an accident in Newport. Bella fell and was hurt. She's still sore."

Angela paled immediately, asking,"The baby?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

Quickly I reached out to wrap my hand around her shoulder. "It's fine," I assured her. "Carlisle and I both believe it wasn't harmed in any way during the accident."

"Thank the lord," she responded, embracing me warmly.

I glanced back at the door. There were no customers in sight. "Angela, I think you should know what happened." I waited just a moment before continuing, "Bella saw the man who attacked her in Bend. He was in Newport. I went after him… and she followed. She was hurt when she fell trying to climb over some crates."

"Oh my," she gasped. "Oh, poor Bella! And Edward—are you all right?"

I nodded. "Yes. And he's in jail now. He won't hurt anyone else."

"Thank goodness."

"Do you think you could get away for a little while and go see Bella? I don't want her to be alone any longer than necessary, and I need to check on Mrs. Withers, as well as go to the office for a short while."

"Of course. Ben's in back doing some paperwork. I'll just get him."

"Thank you."

She hurried off to their little home. I listened as she explained briefly to Ben what had happened. He entered the store a few minutes later, immediately striding toward me to clasp my hand. I kept the contact brief, however.

"Edward," he said. "Damn. I'm sorry."

I gave him a nod of acknowledgment. "Bella and the baby are fine."

"Even so, what a thing to happen."

Angela joined us, Rosemary in her arms. The baby was drowsy, her little eyes only half-open. I rested my hand over her capped head for a moment, smiling at the sight of her. When I looked up, Angela had tears in her eyes.

I cleared my throat in a well-practice human affectation. "Thank you for passing along the word that I'd been delayed. I appreciate it."

"It was no trouble," Ben said. "A couple of people were looking for you last week, but I told them you wouldn't be back until tomorrow."

"Was it anything serious?" I asked.

"The Jensen boy had a fever," Angela replied, "but I saw Millie yesterday, and she said he's feeling better."

"Reverend Joseph was asking about you, too," Ben added. "He didn't say why, though."

"All right. I'll stop by their house after I check on Mrs. Withers, and I'll swing by the Jensens' place on my way home."

"I'll be sure Bella is comfortable," Angela said.

I thanked her and Ben again, then I walked to Mrs. Withers' house. Her daughter-in-law, Helen, was with her much of the time. She answered the door when I knocked.

"Oh, Dr. Cullen," Helen said, "please, come in."

I removed my hat as I stepped inside. "How is Mrs. Withers?" I asked.

"She's resting now. She's often tired… "

I gave her a sympathetic nod. "May I see her for a few moments?"

"Of course."

She led me to the bedroom, where I found Mrs. Withers in bed. The once-robust woman was wan and thin now, but her face still held an innate look of kindness, even in sleep. Her respiration was slightly labored, and her heartbeat was weak. I set my bag on a chair and removed my stethoscope, making a pretense of listening to her heart. I did not need to rest my fingers over her wrist to know that her pulse had weakened, but I did so anyway. I would risk a few seconds of discomfort for this dear patient.

She did not stir as I examined her. She was slumbering heavily. I looked at her hands and feet to check the swelling, disappointed yet unsurprised at what I found. After a few minutes, I left the room with quiet steps.

Helen followed me. I closed the door softly then stepped out into the hallway.

"She's growing weaker," I said, although Helen already knew this. "Is she taking her medicine regularly?"

"Yes. I make sure she has it every morning and every night."

"That's good. Rest and quiet are the best things for her now."

She nodded, pressing her lips together tightly.

"She's fortunate to have you looking after her," I said, placing my hand lightly upon the woman's shoulder.

"I think I should be the one to say that," she replied, blinking against her tears.

"Don't ever hesitate to send for me if she needs me." I donned my hat and wished her good day.

Then I went to the reverend's home. His wife answered the door, seeming somewhat surprised to see me.

"Dr. Cullen. I'd heard you were away…"

"Just for a few days," I replied. "Ben mentioned that your husband had asked for me."

I did not hear another heartbeat in the house so knew the minister was not at home. Still, his wife would know if he'd had a concern about a parishioner. In June he had come to me and asked that I accompany him to see a congregation member about whom he was concerned.

She frowned slightly. "Oh, he worries about me too much…"

So, the patient was not a parishioner; it was his wife. I smiled. "Well, I am the same way with Bella."

She chuckled fondly then stepped back so that I could enter the house.

"What was he worried about?" I asked gently, assessing her scent, heartbeat, and overall appearance even as I spoke.

"It's just a bite…" She pushed up her sleeve to reveal an angry, scabbed over welt on her forearm.

I lifted her arm, careful to touch only her sleeve as I examined the wound visually. There was some necrosis, but it was contained to the area immediately surrounding the swelling. "When did this happen?" I asked.

"On Thursday. I was getting some canning jars from the shed. I reached for one in the back, and I think that's when it happened. I didn't really feel anything except a tickle, but there was a small bump a bit later. It got worse… but it's better now."

"Did it blister?"

She nodded.

"And how did you feel afterward? Any numbness or tingling?"

"No, but I had a headache, a pretty bad one, actually. I had to take to my bed for a day." She shrugged. "Then it went away, but this got a lot worse …" She gestured toward the wound.

"It looks like an arachnid bite, probably from a hobo spider. I think it's healing, but you'll need to watch it carefully. If it doesn't continue to heal, or if it seems to get any worse, come and see me right away, all right?"

"All right. Thank you, Dr. Cullen."

"My pleasure. Take care, Mrs. Joseph."

I left the modest home then stopped by my office. I wished to replace a few items in my bag and be certain things were in order. As I surveyed my supplies, I considered the various usages for each item. There were some procedures I could perform without touching the patient, but many required hands-on treatment. I could not help these individuals without Bella at my side.

* * *

><p>I had much to consider over the next few days. My thoughts were heavy as I drove to the Jensens' farm. They lived about three miles outside of town, past the McMahons' homestead.<p>

Mr. Jensen was working outside the barn on a piece of farm equipment when I drove up. He waved at me, wiping his hands as I stopped the vehicle and got out.

I held my bag in both hands to avoid the inevitable, friendly handshake. Instead, I gave him a nod and a smile.

"Good morning," I said. "Ben mentioned that your son had a fever. I just stopped by to see how he's doing."

"That's awful nice of you, Dr. Cullen," Mr. Jensen replied. "Calvin's feeling better."

"Would you like me to take a look at him while I'm here?" I offered. "It's the least I can do, since I wasn't available last week…" My tone held an apology, and I hoped he understood that there would be no charge for this visit.

Mr. Jensen nodded. "If you don't mind."

He walked with me to the house, where his wife was busy in the kitchen. Two older girls, both young adolescents, were helping her. Another slightly younger girl sat before the hearth with Calvin playing a game with string. I recalled that the boy was six, and his sisters ranged from ten to fourteen.

"Millie," Mr. Jensen said, "Dr. Cullen's here. He came by to see Calvin."

Mrs. Jensen turned toward us. "Oh, thank you. He's not so poorly now."

I smiled and walked toward the youngster. He looked up at me.

"Hello, Calvin," I said amiably. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, sir," he replied politely. However, his complexion was pale, and dark circles remained beneath his eyes.

Mrs. Jensen came to stand beside me. "He was just burning up last Wednesday—came on really suddenly, with a headache and sore throat, too. He's still a little tired, I think, and his appetite's not really back yet."

I nodded sympathetically. The child's lungs sounded clear, and his heartbeat was steady. Even so, I wanted to determine whether he still had a fever.

"Let's just check your temperature," I said, retrieving the thermometer from my bag.

Calvin was a quiet, obedient boy. He sat without complaint with the small device under his tongue. I found that he still had a low-grade fever. I took a deep, steadying breath then quickly checked the lymph nodes beneath his jaws. They were slightly enlarged, and my neck and the back of my throat ached as my fingers pressed lightly over the boy's skin. I had to stop myself from wincing. The memory of Mrs. Withers' pain flickered through me, too, and I required a few moments to clear my mind.

Forcing a smile, I asked Calvin to open his mouth so that I could check his throat. I already knew what the problem was, but I could not tell his parents without examining him.

When I had finished, I patted the child's shoulder then turned to Mr. and Mrs. Jensen.

"Has he had this illness before?" I asked.

Mrs. Jensen nodded. "He had something similar last winter, and also late last summer."

"It's tonsillitis," I explained, "an inflammation of the tonsils, a structure at the back of the throat. He's getting better, but he's still running a slight fever, and some inflammation and irritation remains. He needs rest for another day or two. You can prepare a very mild cider vinegar solution for him to gargle with several times per day. That should ease some of the lingering discomfort. Warm, weak tea made from sage leaves would be helpful, too."

Mrs. Jensen nodded. "All right."

I turned back to Calvin. Speaking gently, I said, "I know your throat is still sore, but it's important for you to eat. Do you think you could try some porridge or soup?"

"Yes, sir," he answered.

I smiled. "Good lad."

I told the Jensens to bring Calvin to see me if he wasn't fully recovered in a few days or if he had another bout of the illness.

Mrs. Jensen had been preparing lunch. She asked me to dine with them, but I politely declined, saying I had other patients to see. In truth, my most important patient was waiting at home, and I was anxious to get back to her.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	58. Chapter 58

_**Author's Note:**_ This chapter contains a relatively mature scene with R-rated content.

* * *

><p>When I arrived at home from the Jensens' farm, Bella and Angela were in the kitchen. Angela stood at the stove. I could smell vegetables cooking. Bella sat at the table, holding Rosemary in her lap. The baby's tiny hands gripped my wife's fingers. Bella's head was bent as she murmured to the little girl. She was not aware of my presence. I paused in the doorway to watch her. Seeing her with a baby in her arms brought a tightness to my throat. Soon she would be cuddling our child…<p>

Bella looked up. "Oh, Edward!" she gasped lightly.

She was pale, and her features appeared drawn. Quickly I moved to her side, bending to kiss her brow.

"How are you feeling?" I asked with concern.

"Better now that you're back," she replied softly.

Angela set a lid on the large pot then turned toward us. "The soup will be ready in an hour or so," she said with a small smile. Yet her eyes held a hint of worry. "I should get back to the store now…"

Bella began to stand, and I took Rosemary from her, giving the baby a kiss on her bonnet.

"Thank you," I told our friend, then added as sincerely as I could manage, "It smells wonderful."

"It does," Bella agreed. "Thank you for making it."

Angela nodded then tilted her head toward the door. I understood that she wished me to walk her out. She gave Bella a gentle hug then took Rosemary from me.

"I'll just see you to your buggy," I said.

We chatted lightly about Rosemary until we got outside, then Angela said, "Edward, Bella doesn't seem very well. Are you certain she's all right?"

"I thought she was," I replied, "but she does look pale."

Angela nodded. "Let me know if there's anything you need or anything I can do."

"Thank you," I said again, helping her into her small carriage.

I did not even wait until she had driven away to hurry back into the house. Bella remained at the table, but she began to stand as soon as she saw me. I rushed to her side, and, to my surprise, she flung herself into my arms.

"Sweetheart, what's the matter?" I asked, stroking her hair.

"I'm just relieved that you're all right," she said.

"Me?" I questioned, confused by her obvious concern.

She took my face in her warm hands. "Angela told me that you were going to see some patients who had asked for you while we were gone. I was worried you'd need to do something that would cause you pain."

"No, I'm fine," I assured her. "I was careful…"

"Tell me about it?" she requested.

"Of course, love." I sat down and settled her in my lap, my arms around her. "I checked on Mrs. Withers first. She's doing about the same."

"But a little worse?" Bella asked softly.

I nodded. "Her heart is weakening, and her lungs are slightly congested. But she was resting comfortably, and Helen is taking good care of her. Still, I think I'll try to see her every few days…"

"Yes, that's a good idea," she agreed.

We both knew that Mrs. Withers was fading, and there was nothing to be done. Still, I would do whatever I could to keep her from suffering. I kissed Bella's cheek and breathed in the lovely scent of her hair before continuing.

"The reverend was looking for me a few days ago," I said. "It turns out that Mrs. Joseph has a bite—from a hobo spider, most likely. It's healing, but it looked bad enough for her husband to be concerned."

"Is she very uncomfortable?" Compassion shone in Bella's beautiful brown eyes.

"I don't believe so, but she'll come and see me if it's not healing properly."

She nodded. "Did you stop at the office?"

"I did, and then I swung by the Jensens' place before coming home. Ben told me their boy had a high fever. It turns out he has tonsillitis. He's doing better; he's at the end of the infection now, I think."

"That's good."

"Yes." I lifted her hand to kiss it, my fingers resting softly against the pulse point in her wrist. "Are you feeling better?"

Her cheeks had a hint of color now. "I am," she replied. "I was just worried about you. I was afraid you'd need to touch someone and it would hurt you."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to make you fret." I did not plan to tell her that I had experienced a few flickers of pain today. My mind felt clear now; there was no harm done.

Our gazes met, and I knew that she shared my concerns about the future of my practice. Still, I had managed the day's patients with little difficulty. But what would the next few months bring?

Bella kissed me, gently at first then with more ardor. Her voice was husky when she whispered, "I love you so much."

"Not more than I love you," I responded.

She rested her head against my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her, one hand spread over the soft swell of her belly. We both understood that our lives would change soon, but for the moment we were content to simply hold each other.

* * *

><p>Bella rested at home for another day. She told me that most of her pain was gone, so I agreed to let her accompany me to town to see Mrs. Withers on Tuesday. The dear woman was sitting up in bed crocheting when we arrived. She set her work aside and held out her hand to Bella.<p>

"Bella," she said warmly, "how are you doing, dear?"

Bella grasped her hand and bent to kiss her cheek. "I'm well," she replied. "How are you feeling?" It was clear from my wife's expression that she could sense our patient's deterioration over the past few weeks.

"Oh, I'm keeping busy—at least as busy as Helen'll let me." There was a hint of fond exasperation in her tone.

I stood beside Bella. Her warm hand automatically came to rest upon my back, her fingers touching my skin through the small slit in the fabric of my shirt. I lifted Mrs. Withers' wrist to feel her pulse.

"You need to rest," I reminded her.

Mrs. Withers sighed. "I do plenty of that." She studied my wife critically for several long moments. "Are you getting enough rest, honey?" she asked, the creases in her brow deepening with concern.

Bella nodded. "I think so. Our trip was a bit tiring, but I'm feeling better now."

"You're keeping an eye on your wife, aren't you?" Mrs. Withers asked me.

"Absolutely," I replied.

"Don't let her overdo," she scolded lightly.

Bella blushed prettily as Mrs. Withers squeezed her hand weakly. I finished my examination then checked the elderly woman's medicine. She seemed to be taking the appropriate doses.

As I was packing my bag, Mrs. Withers rested her hand against Bella's abdomen.

Her gaze catching mine, she asked, "Remember I told you you'd be holding your own little one in January?"

"You were right," I replied with a warmhearted smile.

Bella laughed lightly. "Mrs. Withers, you have a sixth sense about these things!"

The matriarch chuckled weakly. "Well, you aren't the first one to tell me that. You know, I'm almost always right about whether a baby's going to be a boy or a girl." She managed to waggle her eyebrows teasingly.

"I think it's a little girl," Bella said, "but we'll see."

I heard Bella swallow back a small sob as she realized what she had said. It was very unlikely that Mrs. Withers would meet our child. Still, Bella took her thin hand in a gesture of camaraderie.

The frail woman lifted her chin slightly, saying, "Yes, _we_ will."

The conviction in her tone brought a hint of constriction to my own throat. Bella and I each kissed Mrs. Withers on the cheek then bid her good-bye, promising we would see her again in a few days.

I kept my arm around Bella as we walked toward the office. She did not need my physical support, but I knew she appreciated the emotional strength I tried to offer. We were both quiet until we stepped inside, then she looked up at me with tearful eyes.

"How much longer does she have?" she asked me.

I caressed her cheek for a few seconds before replying honestly, "It's difficult to say, love. With lots of rest and continued medication, she may have another month or two."

Bella sniffed and blinked at her tears. "Well then, we'll just have to make sure she's given the best care possible."

"Absolutely," I agreed.

"And our other patients, too," she continued. "It's the least they deserve."

She knew that we could not save Mrs. Withers, so she wished to do all she could for those whose conditions were less grave. I smiled softly and kissed her brow. My Bella would have made a fine physician… if she were not so averse to the scent of blood.

* * *

><p>Over the next few weeks, Bella and I saw a number of patients. She felt fairly energetic, the lingering soreness from her accident fading with each passing day. The baby was active, and its heartbeat was strong.<p>

I remained alert for any patients whose conditions could harm Bella. Injuries were not problematic, unless there was a great deal of blood. Fortunately the only injuries we treated were two fractures, neither compound, so there was no bleeding.

As a precaution, I received each patient who walked in the door, immediately assessing him or her for signs of serious illness. Some months ago, Bella typically greeted the patients when they entered the office, but now I asked her to wait in the consulting room until I was certain the case presented no danger to her.

The warm weather was kind to the townsfolk and to us; contagious diseases were infrequent during the late summer months. Indeed, the office was not terribly busy. Some days we saw only one or two patients, and these were often follow-up visits.

One afternoon, Bella was making a note of the next appointment for a farmer with cholecystitis. I had recommended a castor oil pack as well as some herbal tea to ease his symptoms but wished to see him again in a week to determine the efficacy of the treatment. I knew that gall bladder attacks were quite painful.

"Oh!" Bella exclaimed lightly, a smile spreading over her face as she studied the calendar.

"What is it, darling?" I asked, curious to know what was making her so happy.

"It's been just over a year since we first met," she said, "at least officially."

We often wondered at the serendipity of our brief interaction on the train. It seemed a precursor to our more formal introduction some months later when I stumbled across her farm.

I grinned. "Why yes, it has." I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her crown.

"I would never have imagined then that I'd be married and with child just twelve months later."

"Nor would I, not in my wildest dreams—if I actually _had_ dreams." I chuckled. "I think this is an anniversary of a sort. We should celebrate." I kissed her mouth gently.

"Mmm… yes. But how?" she replied, returning the kiss.

"I'm sure we'll think of something once we get home." I nuzzled her neck and nipped lightly at her earlobe. "As a matter of fact, I'm thinking of something right now…"

Bella glanced at the door then pressed her warm hand over my thigh. "Me, too."

"Great minds think alike," I murmured, pulling her to me. I kissed her again, promising further delights soon.

* * *

><p>The moment we stepped through our front door, I swept Bella into my arms and carried her upstairs. My fingers worked at the buttons on her blouse as her nimble hands removed my shirt. I slid the fabric over her shoulders then unfastened her skirt. She stepped out of it while I kicked off my trousers. Kisses rained over lips, cheeks, eyelids, earlobes and necks, as fingertips trailed along collarbones, shoulders, and arms.<p>

Soon I stood in just my drawers, while Bella wore only her light camisole and pantaloons. My breath caught as I pulled the lacey undergarment over her head, exposing her breasts to my hungry gaze.

"My God," I exhaled, "you are so beautiful."

I was enthralled by new fullness of her breasts and the darkening of the tender flesh at the center. Gently I traced around her nipples, watching them as they responded to my touch. She gave a soft moan, and I bent to kiss each firm peak.

My hands came to rest over her belly, over our child, and I fell to my knees to kiss each hipbone then press my lips beneath her navel.

"My darling, my love," I murmured.

Her fingers slid through my hair, and I lifted her. For a few long moments, I held her in my arms, her legs wrapped around my thighs as our bodies pressed against each other. I felt I could never be close enough to her. I carried her to the bed, where she lay before me. She was glorious, and I adored the changes that showed her body nurturing the product of our love. I had never felt more mesmerized by her, more in love with her.

I kissed her mouth again then moved slowly down, whispering my adoration against her throat, her breasts, and over her heart. She returned my words with endearments of her own, and I felt nearly overwhelmed by the knowledge that such a perfect, kind, and beautiful creature should love me.

When our bodies joined, it was tender, gentle, and slow. We savored each other and our connection, and even after we were both thoroughly sated, we remained entwined. I felt there were no words that could express my feelings fully. So I began kissing her again, intent on showing her exactly how much I loved her.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	59. Chapter 59

The middle of September brought a special occasion: Bella's birthday. I had barely known her at this time last year, but now I wished to celebrate the occasion. My demure wife, however, insisted that she did not wish to do anything out of the ordinary. I tried to respect her preferences for the most part, but if a few words about the date slipped from my lips while I was at the store, it could not be helped.

In addition to mentioning the day to the Webers, I had a surprise planned for her. Carlisle and Esme were going to come for the night. They would arrive while we were at the office, and Esme would prepare a lovely supper for Bella. It was a very modest event, but it would let my wife know how special she was to her new family.

Bella had heard from her own mother only once over the past month. She had received a postcard from Paris with a standard message about the sights and food, and a trite "wish you were here" at the end. I was not sure which galled me more, the platitude or the blatant lie.

* * *

><p>On the morning of September 13, Bella and I stopped at the store, where Ben and Angela greeted us and wished Bella and wonderful birthday. She blushed at the sentiment, and when they handed her a prettily wrapped package, her flush only deepened.<p>

Angela ushered us into the back for a few minutes. She had prepared Bella's favorite tea and the apple turnovers she liked so much. Bella opened the gift to find a beautiful clock inside. It was small, the face set into cut crystal.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" Bella gasped. "Thank you!"

She hugged Angela, who replied, "We thought you could put it over the mantle."

Bella nodded. "Yes, that would be nice. And I'll always think of you when I see it."

After a cup of tea and a turnover, Bella accompanied me to the office. Our first patient was Calvin Jensen.

He was feverish again, and he told me that his throat hurt. I was grateful to have Bella beside me as I conducted the examination. I felt his lymph glands, which were visibly swollen, particularly the jugulodigastric nodes. He winced as I lightly probed the tender area. He murmured that his right ear hurt, too. I suspected this was referred otalgia, stemming from irritation of the nerve leading from the throat to the ear.

I patted his shoulder gently then asked him to open his mouth. He pressed his lips together and shook his head.

"Calvin," Mrs. Jensen chided, "do as the doctor tells you."

His eyes began to fill with tears. "Don't wanna," he mumbled.

I understood the problem immediately. "It hurts, doesn't it?" I asked understandingly.

He nodded.

"I'm very sorry," I replied. "I know it's uncomfortable, but I can't help you if I can't see what's going on in there. If you could open your mouth for just a few seconds, that's all I need."

"How long?" Bella asked very softly so that only I would hear her.

"Ten seconds or less," I replied quietly.

Bella took the child's hand in hers and said to him, "You know how to count, don't you?"

He nodded.

"And I bet you can count to at least one hundred?"

He agreed silently again and whispered, "Even more."

"Hmm. Then ten's not very much for you, is it?"

He shook his head.

Bella smiled at him. "Then how about if you just open your mouth until I count to ten. It's not very much at all." She waited a few moments, her smile very encouraging, then she said, "Ready? Let's go. One…"

He took a shaky breath and opened his mouth. I was ready, tongue depressor in hand. My movements might have been slightly faster than a human's as I slid the small device into his mouth then looked quickly yet thoroughly at his throat. When Bella's lovely voice said, "ten," I removed the tongue depressor and gave Calvin a nod.

"Thank you," I said. "You were quite brave."

"Yes, you were," Bella agreed. She began to release his hand, but he clung a bit tighter. She glanced at me to be certain that I would not need her in the immediate future.

I offered her a quick smile then turned toward Mrs. Jensen. "Calvin has tonsillitis again."

"Oh dear," she murmured, her expression worried. "But he just got over it!"

I nodded sympathetically. "Some children are prone to it. But we're catching this bout fairly early… it's good that you brought him in today." I removed a bottle from the cabinet and showed it to her. "This is chloral hydrate. I want you to prepare a warm-water solution with this and have him gargle with it four times per day." I poured a small amount into a vial and explained the dosage to her. I also suggested she prepare a poultice for his throat; linseed meal would work best.

When I had finished, I returned to Calvin. Bella still had his little hand in hers.

"Your mother has some medicine to help you feel better, and she's going to make a poultice to soothe your throat," I told him. "I'll come and see how you're doing tomorrow."

"Can you come, too?" Calvin asked Bella softly.

"Of course, honey," she replied without hesitation.

I lifted the boy from the table. His hands came up to wrap around my neck, and I nearly flinched at the deep ache that throbbed in my throat. I set him on the floor as quickly as I could, taking a slow breath to calm the pain.

Bella noticed my discomfort instantly and slid her hand into mine. The pain faded in a moment, but her expression showed her concern.

"I'm fine," I murmured.

We walked the Jensens out. As soon as I had closed the door, Bella spoke.

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have moved away from you—"

"It's fine, darling," I reassured her quickly. "I only felt a twinge. It disappeared the moment you touched me again."

"But I need to be more careful," she said with determination. "I don't want to risk your well-being."

Her hand moved to her belly; I doubted she was even aware of the motion. However, I saw it, and then I understood. Her recent concerns for my mental health had intensified: Her worries that I might become incapacitated again were magnified in the face of our impending parenthood.

I cupped her face in my hands. "Really, I'm fine, love," I said as sincerely as I could.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." I kissed her brow.

"Will Calvin be all right?" she asked after a few seconds.

"I hope so. But I'm concerned that he's had four occurrences in less than a year. In some cases, tonsillitis can turn into quinsy—a tonsillar abscess—and that's more difficult to treat. It can also cause a very serious infection that may lead to rheumatic fever, which can damage the heart."

"Oh dear."

"I may need to remove his tonsils. That will prevent any further episodes or complications." I continued on a lighter note, "By the way, you were wonderful with him." My wife's innate ability to calm our patients never failed to astound me.

A light blush crept over her cheeks. "He's a sweet boy. I just wanted to make it as easy as possible for him."

"You did, love. Thank you."

The morning passed quietly. Unbeknownst to Bella, I had prepared a picnic lunch for her. I presented the basket to her at noontime, and we drove about a mile out of town to sit beneath a beautiful old oak where she enjoyed the meal. She ate heartily, which pleased me. After she finished eating, we lay back on the blanket in the cool shade, watching the leaves move in the light breeze. We both felt content.

"This is the nicest birthday I've had in a long time," Bella told me as we were preparing to return to town.

"I haven't done much, darling," I began.

"No, you've done a lot. My mother barely even acknowledged the day… This was perfect." She gestured toward the basket.

"I'm glad," I replied, kissing her lightly. I was eager for the surprise the evening would bring; she deserved a celebration even more now.

* * *

><p>We had been back at the office for about an hour when the telegraph operator, Abe, stepped through the door. I smelled blood immediately. He held his right hand to his chest; it was wrapped in a blood-soaked cloth.<p>

"What happened?" I asked, taking his left arm to lead him to the examination room.

"I was splicing one of the wires, and I guess my hand slipped… damn razor knife got me pretty good." He glanced up at Bella, who had quietly moved to stand behind me. "Er, sorry, Mrs. Cullen."

She smiled. "I think I'd have a few choice words, too, in your situation."

As I helped him up onto the table, she slid her fingers inside my shirt. I heard her swallow and take a slow breath. I unwrapped the cloth, pulling it away from the wound. Immediately fresh blood began to flow. I pressed the cloth against his hand again.

"Bella, could you get me a basin of water?" I asked. I needed to clean Abe's hand so that I could examine the injury properly.

She moved away and returned shortly with the basin and several clean cloths. I thanked her then began wiping away the blood once she had rested her fingers over my back again. The flow was slowing, but it had not ceased entirely. Once I could view the laceration, I noted that it was deep and would require several sutures. I asked Abe to hold a piece of gauze over the wound while I prepared the supplies.

Bella had been quiet, and I looked at her questioningly. She was pale, but her heartbeat was relatively steady.

"Are you all right?" I asked softly.

She nodded. We had not dealt with this much blood in some time, I realized. I vowed to myself that I would work as quickly as possible to close the wound. Bella stood beside me once again to provide her calming touch as I lifted the gauze and cleaned away more blood before I began to suture.

"The cut is deep," I told Abe, "but you didn't nick any major nerves or muscles, so you shouldn't have any long-term effects once it's healed."

"Thanks," he replied, wincing as I placed another suture.

I was concentrating on my task, trying to perform it as fast as I could without alarming Abe. Soon I had closed the wound and began cleaning away the last of the blood. Bella's fingers remained against my back, but her skin was growing cool and clammy. I could hear the increase in her heart rate and shallowness of her breathing. The blood was affecting her.

"Mrs. Cullen," Abe asked as he looked up from his hand, "are you all right?"

I had just reached for a length of gauze but paused to turn my head. "Sweetheart?" I questioned.

She was ashen, and I could see that she was trying to suppress her nausea. Suddenly her hand shot to her mouth, and her eyes widened. She looked at me beseechingly.

"Can you hold that for a moment?" I asked Abe, my words nearly slurred in my haste. I set the gauze over the wound, not waiting for his reply.

I caught Bella around the waist as she began to falter.

"Washroom," she moaned miserably.

I hastened out of the room, half carrying her. We made it to the lavatory just in time. She fell to her knees before the commode and vomited. I crouched beside her, one hand upon her back and the other gently supporting her shoulders.

"Sshh," I soothed, "it's all right."

She was ill for several minutes, but once she had expelled her lunch entirely, she seemed to feel better. Still, she remained pale and shaky. I wiped her face with a cool, damp cloth then took her to the consulting room to place her upon the couch.

I rested my fingers over her wrist to feel her pulse. It had steadied but remained slightly fast. I pressed my lips lightly over her brow, both to calm her and to assess her temperature.

"I'm all right now," she said weakly. "You should finish with Abe."

"Are you certain?"

She nodded. "Please tell him I'm sorry for… that."

"Darling, there is nothing to apologize for."

I set a basin beside her and promised to return within a few minutes. Then I hurried back to my patient.

"Is she okay?" he asked with concern.

"Yes. She felt queasy, but it's passed now," I replied. "How are you feeling?" I bandaged his hand with deft motions, wishing to return to my wife as soon as possible.

"It hurts, but I'll manage."

I helped him to sit up. "Keep it elevated for the rest of the day and tonight, if possible. Come back tomorrow afternoon so that I can check it and change the bandage."

"Yep," he agreed. "Thanks, Dr. Cullen. Tell Mrs. Cullen I hope she'll feel better soon."

I grinned thinly. "I hope so, too."

I walked him out, then I hurried back to Bella. She lay with her eyes closed. Her facial features were relaxed, and her breathing was even. She had fallen asleep. I placed a light blanket over her then sank down on the floor beside her.

I thought about Calvin Jensen and how wonderful she had been with him. I felt fairly certain that he would need a tonsillectomy soon. It was a relatively simple surgery, one I had done several times while I worked at the hospital. Still, I would require Bella's assistance if I were to perform it here. While anaesthesia significantly muted sensations, I preferred to err on the side of caution when administering ether to a small child. He could begin to rouse during the surgery, affecting my ability to complete the procedure if Bella was not at my side.

Yet I could not—would not—ask her to assist me if it posed any threat to her or to the baby. I felt a deep sadness as I realized that I would soon need to cease much of my work. I would not risk Bella's and our child's well-being. I had known, of course, that I would face this issue eventually, but I had delayed considering it seriously. As I studied Bella's pallid skin, I acknowledged that the problem could be denied no longer.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	60. Chapter 60

_**Author's Note:**_ The majority of this story was written before I posted the first chapter. However, the tale just kept going on in my mind, and clearly it is not done yet. At this point I've posted everything that was finished previously. I am now working on new chapters. I have every intention of continuing to update regularly. However, the frequency may drop to about twice per week, rather than every other day, as I attempted before. Thank you for your patience!

* * *

><p>Bella slept for just over an hour. When she woke, she told me that she was feeling much better. I debated telling her about our supper plans. If she felt unwell, she would not relish a surprise, particularly one involving a meal.<p>

Around 4:00 she said she was hungry and ate several ginger biscuits that I'd been keeping on hand for her. She also had a cup of weak tea, and her snack appeared to sit well with her. I decided that I would permit the surprise. If she was not up to the meal, I knew that Esme would understand. Either way, I was certain that Bella would be delighted to see our parents.

As we approached the house in the motorcar, I noticed two large, flowering plants on the porch. Bella saw them, too.

"Oh! Where did those come from?" she asked.

I smiled. "They're a gift from Esme."

"Did she send them from Eugene?"

I shook my head. "No, love. She brought them."

"Is she here? Did Carlisle come, too?" she asked, excitement infusing her tone.

"Yes to both. They wanted to celebrate your birthday. I hope you don't mind? Esme is making supper, but if your stomach isn't up to that, she won't mind."

Bella reached for my hand. "They're too good to me." Her eyes were suddenly bright with tears.

I lifted her hand to kiss it. "You deserve it."

I helped her from the vehicle, then we walked to the house, her arm through mine. Esme and Carlisle greeted us at the door with hugs and good wishes. Bella was beaming, and her cheeks were rosy.

Carlisle took her hands in his and devoted several seconds to appraising her. "How are you feeling, dear?" he asked. To me, he said, "She was pale when you walked in," his words a mere breath to her.

"I've been feeling really good," she replied. "I just had a little nausea today while Edward was treating a patient."

"Is it gone entirely now?" he asked with concern. His cool hand cupped her cheek tenderly.

She nodded. "Yes. I had some ginger cookies and tea a while ago, and my stomach feels fine. And Esme, whatever you're cooking smells wonderful!"

"Are you sure?" my mother questioned. "Honey, if you don't feel up to eating, it's perfectly fine."

"No, I'm hungry," Bella insisted. "I have to keep the little one well-fed." She placed her hand over her abdomen.

Esme smiled, undoubtedly noting that slight increase in Bella's size since our last visit together. She sent Bella upstairs to freshen up while she finished the meal. After assuring us that there was nothing we could do to help, Esme shooed Carlisle and me off to the parlor.

"Is Bella really all right?" he asked.

"She's been doing well," I answered. "She's felt good, and until today she hadn't had any nausea in over a month."

"Even when she's been around blood?" he questioned.

"We haven't treated many bleeding wounds, so her reaction wasn't really an issue until today."

"And you haven't needed to perform any surgeries?"

I shook my head. "None. However, I may have to do a tonsillectomy fairly soon. The boy's had four cases of tonsillitis since last fall, the most recent two less than a month apart."

He nodded. "There would certainly be blood involved… and you would need Bella to assist you."

"Yes," I agreed morosely. "So I'm facing a quandary. How can I continue practicing medicine? I won't risk Bella's health or that of our child. Even if I could send planned surgical cases to you in Eugene, on any given day we could face lacerations, amputations, emergency surgeries… any number of things. I don't think that Bella can handle those anymore, and I don't want her to."

"Have you discussed this with her?" he asked reasonably.

"No, not yet. I know she'll say she's all right, that she'll try harder. She cares about our patients as much as I do."

"Surely she must realize that once the baby comes, she'll need to take care of it. She won't be able to help you on a consistent basis."

"Honestly, I believe we've both been avoiding thinking about that," I admitted. "I was hoping I could see patients on my own, at least to some extent. I even attempted it after we returned from the coast—"

"Edward, no! You mustn't risk your own well-being like that, especially now."

"I know," I replied, slightly abashed. "Even a brief touch caused me pain. It faded relatively fast, but if I needed to set a bone or suture a wound, or even diagnose most illnesses, touch is unavoidable."

"It is," he agreed.

We both knew that our heightened senses were extremely useful diagnostic tools. Touch was often a critical part of the process. We remained silent for several long moments, then he spoke again.

"You and Bella should talk, son, to discuss this honestly and openly."

"I know. I'll speak with her soon."

"Good. In the meantime, if you decide perform that tonsillectomy, I hope you will consider sending for me. I'd be glad to assist you."

"Would you?" I asked, surprised.

"Of course. I want to help in any way that I can."

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

We embraced briefly yet warmly, and then we heard Bella's delicate step on the stairs. Esme was setting out food on the table, so Carlisle and I rose to escort the beautiful birthday girl to her celebratory meal.

* * *

><p>Bella enjoyed the food, although she ate rather sparingly. She tasted everything and complimented Esme on the flavors. Dessert was a berry pie that Bella proclaimed the best she had ever tasted.<p>

After supper, we all went into the parlor, where Carlisle, Esme, and I presented Bella with gifts. She protested and said it was all too much, but she seemed to enjoy the presents regardless.

Carlisle gave her several new books, including one with children's stories. She was touched by the latter in particular. Esme's gifts were two new blouses and a gorgeous painting of Charlie's farm with the house featured prominently. Bella's eyes filled with tears as she looked at the painting; it was truly a wonderful gift that only my mother could have created.

I gave my wife a pretty locket and told her that one day it would hold a picture of our child. To ensure a perfect photograph, I also gave her a Brownie box camera. She was thrilled and could not wait to learn how to use it. I had ordered supplies for developing the film, too, and planned to build a small darkroom off the garage.

"This is all so lovely," Bella effused as the gifts and wrapping paper sat all around her. "Thank you. I've never had such a marvelous birthday before."

"Then we'll have to see that every single one from now on is even better than the last," Esme said with a smile.

Bella appeared tired shortly after finishing with her gifts. Carlisle took Esme's hand and told her it was a perfect night for a walk. They left us alone to retire to our bedroom, where I gave my wife one final gift, a gentle yet ardent reminder of my intense and undying love for her.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	61. Chapter 61

Bella slept soundly, and she appeared well when she awoke. Carlisle and Esme departed after she finished breakfast. Embraces and fond parting words left us all feeling emotional and eager for our next visit together.

As we cleaned the breakfast dishes, Bella said, "Shall we stop at the Jensens' this morning, or do you want to go this evening?"

"I'd like to see how Calvin is doing this morning," I replied. "If he's gotten any worse, he may need a different medicine. I can run over there now…"

She was drying a plate, but she paused, dishtowel in her hand. "I promised him I'd come too, remember?"

Of course I did. But the memory of her ashen face and frail form later in the day was much stronger in my mind. "Sweetheart, you don't need to go," I began.

She frowned prettily. "Why not?"

"You were ill yesterday… I don't want you to push yourself."

"I feel fine today. I ate three eggs and two slices of toast, for goodness sake!" She gestured toward the iron skillet on the stove.

"I just don't want you to become ill again," I said, cupping her cheek gently. "Your health and that of the baby are the most important thing in the world to me."

Her expression softened. "I know that, Edward. And I understand your concerns. But there's not going to be any blood at the Jensens' farm, and Calvin's not contagious."

She was right—for the moment, at least. Still, this could preface the important discussion we needed to have. However, before I could continue, Bella said she would finish getting ready so that we could leave shortly. She kissed my cheek then hurried from the kitchen.

I would return to the subject we had raised soon. I knew that she was aware of the issue now, and I felt we would be able to discuss it reasonably when the time seemed right. I would not put it off for long.

* * *

><p>Calvin remained feverish, but his tonsils looked no worse. Bella's gentle presence allowed me to examine him without distress for either patient or physician. I instructed Mrs. Jensen to continue with the chloral hydrate and encourage the boy to eat soft foods and drink weak herbal tea and water. I was concerned about his weight; the child was thin and wan, his frequent illnesses leaving him frail. I was fully convinced now that a tonsillectomy was necessary.<p>

One of Calvin's sisters wanted to show Bella some new kittens in the barn; both girls were quite taken with my lovely, sweet wife. Bella smiled at the offer and accompanied Tess outside. While she was gone, I told Mr. and Mrs. Jensen that I felt we should consider removing Calvin's tonsils once he had recovered from this bout of illness.

"It's a relatively simple procedure," I assured them. "And once he recuperates, his health should improve considerably."

"If you really feel it's best, Dr. Cullen," Mr. Jensen said.

"I do," I replied. "I don't want to risk Calvin's contracting rheumatic fever, and that's a possible complication with frequent tonsillitis. Rheumatic fever can cause serious heart damage; he would be ill for the rest of his life."

"Oh dear," murmured Mrs. Jensen. She and her husband shared a look.

Mr. Jensen nodded. "We don't want our boy to be sick. If removing his tonsils can prevent that, then that's what we should do."

With a nod and a gentle smile, I said, "I'll come by to check on him again tomorrow evening. But if he seems any worse, bring him in, all right?"

They agreed. After Bella returned from the barn, we left. It was time to open the office, as we had a patient scheduled for 9:30. As we drove toward town, Bella asked if there was anything else we could do for Calvin.

"The poor child looks so weak," she finished.

"He's definitely underweight," I agreed.

"Do you think you'll end up removing his tonsils?" she asked.

For some reason I hesitated to tell her about my conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Jensen. Perhaps it was the mere thought of exposing her to Calvin's blood that stopped me. I did not want her to envision the surgery; I worried that could make her queasy again.

So I replied, "Possibly. I'll see how he's doing in a few weeks…" Feeling a need to change the subject, I asked, "How were the kittens?"

She smiled. "Adorable. They're about six weeks old. They were tumbling and playing with each other…"

We chatted pleasantly until we reached Madras. The morning progressed without difficulty. In fact, there were some happy moments, the kind that physicians relish.

Our scheduled patient was Mrs. Joseph, the minister's wife. She had stopped in the previous week, but I had been with another patient. She had seemed hesitant and embarrassed, saying she would come back later. However, my instincts had told me that she might not return if she did not have an appointment. I had found that reticent patients were much more likely to follow through with consultations and treatment when they felt obligated to keep an appointment. So I had asked that Bella schedule her at her convenience.

Mrs. Joseph arrived on time. Bella and I greeted her, then I took her to the consulting room. I felt she would be more comfortable discussing the issue first. We both sat down; Bella remained outside, as I did not need her present for consultations. I had begun assessing Mrs. Joseph as soon as she entered the office. Nothing was blatantly amiss, but her scent alerted me to the problem. However, I kept my expression neutral; we would need to get to a diagnosis the usual way.

"Has the spider bite healed fully?" I asked to preface our conversation.

"Oh yes, it's fine," she replied. She shifted her ankles and clasped her hands in her lap.

"I'm glad to hear it." I smiled kindly. "So, what can I do to help you today?"

She shook her head. "It's silly… and I probably shouldn't have come, but my husband insisted. You know how he worries…"

"I do. What has him concerned?"

"I've been a little light-headed, sometimes even dizzy, for the past few weeks. My stomach has felt a bit off, too."

"Yes? How bad is the dizziness?"

"I've had to sit down a few times because of it…" She lowered her gaze to her hands, her cheeks flushing. "But I know what it is. I know women who've gone through it. I tried to tell him, but he still thought I should see you…"

"He loves you very much," I said.

"He does."

"How long have you been married?"

"Nearly twenty years."

"That's wonderful." I leaned forward slightly. "Now, what do you think is causing your symptoms?" It was difficult to keep my face from betraying my emotions.

"I'm sure it's…" She took a breath. "It's just _the_ _change_."

Her words surprised me. "The change?" I repeated.

She looked up at me, visibly discomfited. "Yes, Dr. Cullen. I'm forty-two years old, and my… my monthly cycle stopped."

"I see. Did it stop suddenly?"

"Why yes. But that's what happens when women reach this, this time… right?"

"Were your cycles regular until the last one?"

"Yes, very."

"And when was the last one?"

"At the end of June… two-and-a-half months ago."

"Have you been particularly tired lately?"

She nodded. I asked a few more pointed questions, to which she responded in the affirmative.

Now I could not prevent the smile that twitched at my lips. "Mrs. Joseph, there is another reason that a woman's monthly cycle ceases."

"Well of course," she responded, slightly exasperated. I could tell that she thought me rather obtuse at the moment. "But my husband and I weren't blessed with children. I suppose the Lord wanted us to shepherd a different flock…"

"I think the Lord has something else planned for you now," I said, not trying to suppress my grin any further.

Mrs. Joseph paled and pressed a hand to her mouth. "What… are you… Oh… oh, no, it's not possible… is it?"

"Indeed it is. I am fairly certain that you are with child," I replied.

I permitted her a few moments to process this clearly unexpected information, then I told her that an examination would confirm my diagnosis. She was quite shaken; her legs were unsteady as I helped her to rise. I kept my hand at her elbow as we walked across the hall.

"Bella," I requested.

My wife appeared quickly, her expression one of concern as she took in our patient's pale complexion. Bella's presence was welcome as I conducted my examination. When I had finished, I delivered the happy news.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Joseph," I said. "You and the reverend will welcome a baby in April."

Bella gasped in delight. "Oh my goodness!" she said. "What wonderful news!"

She embraced Mrs. Joseph, whose eyes were filled with tears. "I never thought," she began. "I mean, we always wanted children, but it didn't happen, and so we thought it wasn't possible… but, oh, I think I really do believe in miracles now."

Bella and I shared a significant glance and a secret smile at those words.

Mrs. Joseph reached for my hands, clasping them firmly. "Dr. Cullen, thank you!"

Bella slid her fingers inside my shirt swiftly, so I felt nothing but the warmth of the overjoyed woman's skin.

"My pleasure, truly," I replied.

Mrs. Joseph wiped at her eyes. "I have to tell my husband."

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled," Bella said sincerely.

I helped Mrs. Joseph from the examination table. "Now, I want to see you on a regular basis," I told her, my tone slightly more serious. "You're in good health, and I don't see anything at all that concerns me. But we want to be extra careful. You need plenty of rest and good nutrition…" I provided her with as much basic information as I felt she could manage at the moment, ending with a few words about sending for me if she experienced particular symptoms.

Bella and I walked her out. She thanked me again, then hastened out the door, absolutely beaming. The shock had worn off, and now she was simply elated.

I wrapped my arm around Bella as we watched Mrs. Joseph hurry down the street.

"That's wonderful for her and Reverend Joseph," Bella said.

"It is," I agreed.

She sobered a bit. "Do you think she'll have any problems?" Bella had read some of my texts on pregnancy and childbirth; she understood that Mrs. Joseph's age increased the chances for difficulties.

"I hope not. She really is in excellent health. She's strong and vigorous, and that will help. I'll keep a close eye on her, though."

"I know you will." She pushed up onto her toes to kiss my cheek. "She's lucky to have you to look after her. This entire township is…" Her eyes shone with pride.

My emotions, however, plummeted. How long would I be able to care for Mrs. Joseph? And if I could not, what would that mean for her, and for the rest of the community? I had not fully accepted my limitations; I was still thinking about the future, about attending to my patients. This mindset would need to change soon.

"Edward?" Bella questioned, misinterpreting my glum expression. "Oh no… is there something you're not telling me about her?"

"No, darling," I replied. But that was not the truth. How could I tell my wife that I would likely need to abandon my practice well before Mrs. Joseph's baby was born?

* * *

><p>I ruminated for the remainder of the morning and into the afternoon. I told Bella that I wanted to review some texts, so I was able to remain in my consulting room for much of the day. I did not wish to upset her or worry her with my brooding. She busied herself with some bookkeeping and happily complied with my request to write to several supply houses to place orders.<p>

It was only after she'd sat down to write that I realized my unintentional deception. Would I even need most of the items she was requesting?

I sat behind my desk, open book before me, for several hours. I did not turn a single page. My thoughts were cycling, scrabbling for a solution to my problem. But nothing solid came to me.

Around 3:00, Bella came in to tell me that Abe had arrived. I closed the unread book and stood.

"Thank you, love. Bring him back," I instructed.

She escorted Abe to the examination room. He held his hand against his chest, and I could tell that he was experiencing pain still. The bandage had several spots of dried blood on it.

"Why don't you wait in my office," I suggested to Bella.

"Won't you need me?" she asked, concerned.

"I don't believe so," I replied. "I'll call you if I do."

"Are you sure?"

I nodded. I felt certain there would be a scent of blood—at the very least, the smell would linger beneath the bandage. She acquiesced, although she appeared rather dubious. I led Abe inside the room and gestured toward one of the chairs.

"How are you doing?" I asked, pulling up a stool and a small table.

"It's still pretty sore," he admitted. "I've been keeping it elevated, and that helps some…"

"Let me take a look." I sat down and unwrapped the bandage, careful not to touch his skin. "There are no signs of infection, and the sutures are holding well," I reported.

He nodded. "That's good."

"I'm going to clean it again and put on a fresh dressing."

I stood to retrieve a few items from the cabinet. I set the bottle of carbolic solution and gauze on the table then filled a small glass with water. I shook two pills into my hand.

"I want you to take these; they'll help with the pain." I passed him the cup and dropped the tablets into his palm.

"Thanks," he responded. He swallowed the pills, then I began cleaning the wound.

"Mrs. Cullen feeling better?" he asked while I worked.

"Yes, I believe so," I replied.

"Glad to hear it…" He winced as I applied more carbolic; I knew it stung.

"Sorry," I murmured.

"Yep…" His gaze wandered to the open door. He could glimpse the back wall of the consulting room from his position. I surmised he had caught a glance of my framed diploma when he asked, "So, you came out here from the Midwest?"

"Yes, from Minnesota. I graduated from medical school at the university in St. Paul."

"St. Paul, huh? Big city…"

I gave him a quick, lopsided grin. "Bigger than Madras."

He chuckled. "Did you ever use a telephone there?"

I nodded. "I did. We had several at the hospital, and my father had one installed in our home about two years before I moved. It was very convenient when there was an urgent case at the hospital where he also worked."

"Looks like the bigger cities here are getting more and more of 'em… Portland's got dozens of lines, and I heard Eugene and Newport have service, too, now."

Carlisle had recently mentioned ordering a telephone for his and Esme's home. I replied, "Yes. My father moved to Eugene a few months ago, and he's planning to get another telephone…"

"Wonder what it'd take to get lines here?" Abe mused.

I looked up at him. Telephone service would be very helpful in this community. "I'm not sure, but if you'd be willing to look into it, I would be glad to help fund the installation."

"Yeah? That'd be great, Dr. Cullen. I'll start checking into it right away."

"I think it can wait until morning," I told him, carefully wrapping a clean bandage around his hand. With a slight smile of apology, I added, "Those pills are going to make you sleepy. I recommend that you go home and get into bed."

He snorted good-naturedly. "Fine… guess I could use some sleep… didn't get much last night."

"I'll stop by tomorrow and see how you're doing. Maybe you'll have some information for me then."

Abe was clearly pleased with his task. I walked him out. Bella emerged from my office to wish him well as he was leaving.

"What was that I heard about telephones?" she asked me.

"Abe is going to see if we can get service here in Madras," I told her.

"Oh! That would be so nice…" She contemplated this for several moments then said, "Especially after the baby is born. I won't be able to be here with you all the time when she's tiny, so you'd be able to call me when you need me."

She had just provided me with the ideal opportunity to discuss my concerns with her. I nodded, taking her hands in mine.

"Darling, we're going to have to make some changes, and probably before you have the baby," I began. "What happened yesterday with Abe scared me; I was very worried for both you and the baby."

Immediately she interjected, "I'm fine now, Edward—"

I shook my head. "For the moment, yes. But what about the next time? We never know when there will be blood involved with a patient. I can't risk your being here and becoming ill. If you were to faint, you or the baby could be hurt seriously."

She frowned. "Edward, I've never fainted when we've been with a patient."

"But you've come close. And sweetheart, as your pregnancy progresses, it will put more and more strain on your body. Changes in blood flow alone could cause syncope, so exposure to even a small amount of blood could cause you to faint."

Her eyebrows drew together. I knew she wanted to formulate a solid retort, but I had science on my side. So I continued.

"There is also a serious risk of your contracting an illness from a patient. If someone were to come in here with diphtheria, cholera, or scarlet fever…" I could not even speak the words.

"So what are you saying, Edward? Are you telling me that I can't assist you anymore?"

"Honestly, darling, I don't know. I think that we need to exercise considerable caution, at the very least—even more than in the past. I won't expose you to any contagious diseases or to blood."

"But how will you treat those patients without me?"

I sighed. "I'm not sure that I can."

She looked up at me, tears in her eyes. Our gazes met, and we both understood the hard truth of the matter.

"What can we do?" she finally asked, her voice tremulous. "How can we help Mrs. Joseph and Mrs. Withers, and Calvin and Abe, and everyone else who needs us?"

I pulled her into my arms and tucked her head beneath my chin. "I don't know, love."

Her tears fell, and I could feel her heart beating quickly against my own chest. She was very upset. I stroked her hair gently and kissed her temple.

Because I could not bear to see her so distressed, I finally said, "We'll figure out something; everything will work out." For the moment, my empty words would placate her. I wished they could have the same effect on me.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	62. Chapter 62

**_Note:_** Lemon alert! ****There is an R/M-rated scene early in the chapter. Please scroll down to the first page break if you wish to skip it.

* * *

><p>The next few weeks brought a flurry of activity to our small town. With financial backing from the Webers and me, Abe made arrangements to bring telephone service to Madras. The main switchboard would be installed at the telegraph office, and he would serve as operator.<p>

Word spread quickly about the service, and a number of townsfolk, as well as several of the more prosperous farmers, ordered telephones for their homes. Bella and I, of course, wished to have telephones in both the office and in our house. I knew this was not a permanent solution to our problem, but Bella agreed that she would spend less time at the office in the coming months, as long as I promised to telephone her whenever her assistance was needed.

In the meantime, we decided that she should learn to operate the motorcar. This would allow her to drive into town in relative comfort during inclement weather. She proved an adept motorist after only a handful of lessons. However, I was concerned about allowing her to start the vehicle. Hand-cranking was a cumbersome task that required considerable exertion. Such an activity was unwise for a woman in Bella's condition. There was a danger, too, that the car could backfire, slipping into reverse and forcing the crank to jerk backward. This could result in a broken thumb; a fracture to the radial styloid process was the usual result. I had read several articles in recent journals about this type of accident. It was referred to as a chauffeur's fracture. I would not risk my wife's delicate hand to such a mishap.

Thus, it required little thought on my part to purchase a new motorcar for Bella. The Cadillac company had recently introduced an automobile with a self-starting motor. I was ordered a new 1912 Cadillac Model 30 from a dealer in Portland, even more pleased when I thought about the motorcar's other new features. The vehicle was equipped with electric lighting, too, which would provide additional safety if Bella needed to drive at night or in heavy rain.

Carlisle readily agreed to pick up the automobile once it was delivered to Portland. He would drive it to us when he had a few days off in October. I knew he was excited that the Cadillac could cruise at nearly 45 miles per hour. I hoped, however, that Bella would not test this capability when she was behind the wheel.

I needed to schedule Calvin's surgery soon. Not wishing to risk Bella's safety in any way, I wrote to Carlisle to accept his offer to assist me. I would welcome his presence, both professionally and personally. He replied by telegram, saying he could come the following Thursday.

Bella and I went to the Jensens' farm after work on Monday to check on Calvin once more. He had recovered from his last bout of tonsillitis, but it had been a longer process than the previous time.

As we drove toward their homestead, I told Bella that I planned to remove Calvin's tonsils soon.

"If he's showing no signs of illness, I'd like to do the surgery this Thursday," I said. "I've asked Carlisle to come and assist me."

She appeared surprised by this last bit of information. "Really?"

"Yes. He offered to do it when I mentioned Calvin's case to him earlier this month. It's been awhile since I performed a tonsillectomy…"

Bella knew there was more to the situation than that. Quietly, she added, "And this way I won't need to be in the room with you."

"I think your presence with Mr. and Mrs. Jensen will be much more important," I replied. "I know you'll be a great comfort to them."

She nodded, but I could see the resignation in her expression. She felt that she was failing me somehow.

Calvin was healthy enough for the surgery, and his parents agreed to bring him to the office on Thursday morning.

As we were driving away, Bella said, "It will be nice to see Carlisle, even if it's only for a short while."

I smiled. "Esme is going to come, too."

"Oh!" This cheered her. "How long can they stay?"

"Just for the day. Carlisle is scheduled to work on Friday morning, but they won't need to leave until after you've gone to bed."

"I can't wait to see them. I know it's only been a couple of weeks, but it seems like ages."

"They feel the same way," I replied. I waited a few moments then continued, "I have another surprise for you."

"Really? What's that?"

"I've ordered a new motorcar for you."

Her eyes widened. "Edward! That's too extravagant! This one is just fine."

"Actually, love, it's not. The crank can be very dangerous. Aside from the physical exertion required to use it, if the engine backfires you could break your thumb. It's becoming a very common injury among motorcar drivers. The new automobile has a self-starting engine—no crank required."

"Oh… well, I suppose that's good; it does seem safer. But I don't want everyone to think we're being ostentatious."

My assets were already a topic of discreet conversation among the townspeople. The fact that I charged little—if anything—for my services had alerted them to my financial independence. And my backing for much of the telephone project was not a secret, although I would have preferred that it was.

"It can't be helped, darling. I want you to be safe, and the new automobile will be much less dangerous for you to operate. Besides, we won't be the only ones with an automobile. Ben told me that he's planning to purchase one next month."

"Goodness, between the motorcars and the telephones, Madras will soon feel almost like a city!" She gave me a small, teasing grin.

"I hope not. I rather like our quiet little town."

"I do, too," she agreed.

I lifted her hand to kiss it then returned my hand to the steering wheel. "The new car is smaller than this one. I think you'll find it easier to handle. Carlisle and Esme will drive it down from Portland when it arrives next month."

She slipped her arm through mine. "Thank you, Edward."

I kissed her cheek. "You're welcome, my love."

As soon as I had parked the motorcar in the shed, I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her properly. She responded enthusiastically, and soon we were inside the house, items of clothing strewn about the entryway. We wore only our undergarments by the time we reached the parlor, and these were quickly shed by both Bella's hands and mine.

I sank down onto the sofa, my hands upon her lovely hips as she stood before me. I ran my thumbs gently over the roundness of her belly, eliciting a deep sigh from her. My hands moved around to cup her luscious little bottom, then I pulled her forward. She slid onto her knees, her legs straddling my thighs.

I kissed her throat and her chin, and then my mouth closed softly over her firm, dark nipple. She groaned in pleasure as my tongue danced over the delectable bud. Her natural flavor had changed; it was deeper, almost heady, now. I loved tasting her.

Her hands tangled in my hair as I pulled back so that I could see her again. I cupped her breasts tenderly, running a fingertip around each nipple. Her scent was sweet and musky, the flush of arousal covering her chest. She wriggled against my bare thighs, moving up so that my hardness was pressed against her heat.

"Oh yes, my love," I murmured, sliding my hand beneath her bottom.

She lifted herself and shifted, and then I was inside her. I would never cease to revel in the sensation of our joining. It was both a physical and emotional marvel. When she kissed me deeply, we were as close as it was possible for two people to be. For many long and glorious moments, we were truly one.

I kept my hand at her hip, supporting her gently as she began to move. The swell of her beautiful belly pressed against my solid stomach; the feel of it increased my adoration for her even more. My mouth never left hers, but my other hand caressed her breast with loving strokes until the final moment when we both reached the pinnacle of pleasure. Then I wrapped my arms around her, holding her as she gasped and cried out my name.

Later, I lay sprawled upon the sofa, Bella on top of me. She rested on her side, her head upon my shoulder. I had one arm around her, my hand spread over her belly. The marvelous sound of two heartbeats echoed softly in my ears.

Whatever the future held, whatever course our lives took, we would find happiness in each other and in the child we had, astonishingly, created.

* * *

><p>Carlisle and Esme arrived before dawn on Thursday. Bella woke to freshly baked biscuits with honey, courtesy of her mother-in-law. We did not have much time for her to linger over her breakfast, however; I had asked the Jensens to be at the office at 8:00.<p>

Esme remained at the house. She said she wanted to prune the trees and rose bushes for Bella. I knew she would do several other chores, as well, but she enjoyed helping Bella. It would be imprudent for her to be anywhere near my office during the surgery, so I was glad she could feel useful.

Carlisle and I began preparing the surgery while Bella opened the office and tried to make the waiting area as comfortable as possible for the Jensens. She had baked sugar cookies the previous night, considerately setting out a small plate of them. She also had a pitcher of water available, as well as several newspapers and a few ladies magazines.

Working together, Carlisle and I had the room ready in short order. We discussed the procedure, easily agreeing that a complete removal was best. We had both read Ballenger's articles on the topic and knew that results were less consistent with partial removal.

I sterilized the instruments, setting them on a clean tray then covering them with a towel. Carlisle touched the cloth covering the scalpel and forceps.

"I much prefer these to the tonsillotome," he commented.

I nodded. I had seen the so-called tonsil guillotine used several times, but with it, typically only partial removal of the tonsils occurred, leaving behind tissue that could become infected again. The instrument's popularity stemmed from the ease of its use for the typical operator. However, for two surgeons with unfailingly steady hands and supreme dexterity, this was not an issue.

I found myself smiling at our concurrence. Carlisle and I rarely disagreed on medical procedures, diagnoses, or treatment options. He had told me once that he sensed a kindred spirit the day we met at Northwestern. The questions I had posed and my response to his answers reminded him of himself. He had thought then that he would enjoy practicing with me. Of course neither of us could have imagined that this idle fancy would come to fruition.

"I think we're ready," I said. "And our patient has arrived."

I heard the footfalls on the sidewalk, one set much heavier than the other. Mr. Jensen must be carrying Calvin. The front door opened, and Bella's kind voice greeted the family.

"Good morning," she said. "How are you, sweetheart?" Her tone became very gentle, and I knew she was addressing Calvin.

The child's heartbeat was fairly steady, but his parents were clearly anxious.

Carlisle and I stepped from the surgery. I smiled warmly, nodding at Mr. and Mrs. Jensen. Immediately I began assessing Calvin. I was slightly concerned that his father had carried him in. Was the boy feeling ill again? He did not appear feverish, and I smelled no infection.

I caught Mr. Jensen's eye. His brow was deeply creased with worry. I understood, then. He was holding his son to keep him close, to protect him for as long as he could.

I smiled reassuringly, then gestured toward Carlisle, who remained a step behind me.

"Good morning," I said amiably. "I'd like you to meet my father, Dr. Carlisle Cullen. As luck would have it, he's visiting from Eugene, where he is a surgeon at the hospital. He has agreed to assist me today, with your permission, of course."

Carlisle stepped forward and extended his hand to Mr. Jensen. My father's gentle demeanor and benevolent countenance brought a sense of calm to the entire room.

"Mr. Jensen," Carlisle said, "it's a pleasure to meet you. And Calvin," he placed his hand on the child's head, "you too."

He smiled at Mrs. Jensen, who gave a nod in response. Bella touched the woman's back lightly, offering silent support. My wife's expression clearly showed her respect and admiration for my father.

"Calvin," I said, keeping my tone comfortable, "do you know why you're here today?"

"Papa says it's to fix my throat," the boy replied.

"That's right," I agreed affably. "There's a part of your throat that keeps getting sick, so I'm going to take care of it."

"How?" the child inquired, fascinated and wary at the same time.

"Well, I'm just going to take it out. You won't feel anything. I'm going to give you something that will make you go to sleep, and when you wake up, I'll be all finished, and the bad parts will be gone."

Calvin's little brow furrowed as he attempted to make sense of this, then his eyes moved from my face to Bella. "Will you hold my hand like last time?" he asked her.

For a moment her composure nearly faltered, then she smiled and replied, "Of course, honey. I'll be right beside you when you go to sleep and right there when you wake up."

He nodded somberly. "Okay."

I led the family to the surgery, where Mr. Jensen set Calvin on the table. He gave the boy a hug, and Mrs. Jensen kissed his forehead and told him she loved him.

"Everything's going to be fine," I assured the parents. "Bella will join you shortly," I added.

True to her word, my lovely wife kept the child's hand in hers while I performed a brief examination to be certain he was not becoming ill again. She positioned herself so that she could press her fingers over my back while I checked Calvin's temperature, felt his glands, and looked at his throat. I was aware that Carlisle was watching us, a look of mild fascination on his face.

Once I was assured that the child was well, I prepared the chloroform. Bella settled Calvin on the table then took his little hand again while I administered the anaesthesia. Carlisle moved to the other side of the table, feeling the child's pulse as consciousness left him.

I gave Bella a nod. "He's under now. Thank you for comforting him, darling."

"Of course," she replied. "Let me know when he begins to wake so that I can be there." She paused for a moment, then addressed both Carlisle and me. "I hope it goes well."

"I'm sure it will," he said. "Don't worry, dear."

She gave him a grateful smile then kissed my cheek. She closed the door securely as she left the room. Carlisle and I rolled up our sleeves and washed our hands thoroughly, finishing by dipping them into a basin filled with carbolic acid solution.

I began to uncover the instruments but found myself hesitating.

"Son?" Carlisle questioned. "Is something wrong?"

I swallowed. "It's just odd not having Bella here with me. When she's beside me, I don't even think about feeling the pain…"

"I can see how comfortable you are when she assists you," he replied. "Edward, let _me_ help you today."

I took a long breath. "Thank you, Carlisle."

"It's my pleasure. Now, let's get this young man's tonsils removed."

We worked together seamlessly, anticipating each other's moves with little need for words. Carlisle was flawless in his ability to ensure that I did not have to come into direct contact with the child's skin while still allowing me to be a participant in the procedure.

Our hands moved quickly—faster than we could have allowed during our time at the hospital—and soon we were finished. Calvin had not stirred. His pulse and respiration remained steady. He had come through the operation well.

After making certain that there was no blood on either him or myself, I carried the child across the hall and laid him in the bed in my consulting room. Carlisle was tidying up the surgery so that Bella would not be exposed to even the slightest whiff of blood.

I tucked a blanket around the child then walked to the waiting room, smiling at Mr. and Mrs. Jensen when they looked up at me. They were seated on the bench, their hands clasped. Bella sat in the chair across from them.

"Everything went very well," I stated without preamble. "Calvin is still asleep from the anaesthetic. I'd like him to rest quietly, but perhaps you'd like to see him for a moment?"

The boy's parents anxiously followed me to the consulting room. Mrs. Jensen touched her son's cheek tenderly, and Mr. Jensen rested his large hand over the child's forehead. Bella remained in the doorway, her expression still a bit tight.

"I'll let you know when he wakes," I told the Jensens.

"Is there anything we can get you while you're waiting?" Bella asked courteously. "I can make some tea…"

"No, thank you, Mrs. Cullen," Mrs. Jensen replied. "I may have one of those cookies, though."

"Please do," Bella said with a smile. "Take some for the girls, too."

The Jensens returned to the waiting room. Bella came to sit beside Calvin, taking his little hand.

"Is he really all right, Edward?" she asked me.

"Yes, love. He's going to be in pain when he wakes, though. I'll give him some morphine as soon as the anaesthetic has cleared his system, and I'll send some aspirin powder home with his parents. Hopefully he won't be too uncomfortable. In the long-run, this will spare him quite a bit of pain."

"I know." She stroked his hair, her expression very tender.

Carlisle came in soon, checking the child's pulse. "He's doing just fine," he said, more for Bella's benefit than for mine. He gave her shoulder a soft squeeze. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, thank you," she responded.

The three of us sat with Calvin until he began to rouse. I had a syringe of morphine ready, and once I could no longer smell the chloroform in his bloodstream I administered the medicine. He had just started to open his eyes, which were already tearing up from the pain.

"Sshh, honey, it's all right," Bella soothed softly.

The morphine worked quickly, and he blinked drowsily up at us.

"Don't try to talk," I cautioned gently. "Your throat is going to be very sore for a little while. But your mother will have some medicine to give you. You just let her know when it starts to hurt."

I left Bella and Carlisle with Calvin while I joined his parents to explain the care he would need over the next few days. I promised I would stop by their farm in the evening to check on him. If he was in a great deal of pain, I would give him another small dose of morphine to see him through the night.

I had no patients scheduled, preferring to err on the side of caution and keep the day free in case I had needed to keep a close watch on Calvin. Fortunately, the child had done very well and showed no signs of complications. The Jensens left in the afternoon.

Carlisle decided to return to the house, mentioning rather obliquely that he was going to assist Esme with something. I had a feeling that the two of them were doing a bit more than pruning our trees and bushes. It was a fine day for a long walk, at least for him. He strolled down the street at a leisurely pace, unperturbed by the light drizzle.

Bella and I spent perhaps half and hour updating several files. It was quiet afternoon, so we considered closing the office early to enjoy a few extra hours with Carlisle and Esme. However, shortly before four o'clock, Reverend Joseph hastened through the door. He appeared very shaken and out of breath.

"Reverend?" I questioned, steadying him with a hand around his shoulder. "What's the matter?"

"It's Clara," he panted.

Bella paled, instantly worried about the minister's wife and their unborn child.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I don't know…I was at the church, working on my sermon, and when I came home she was lying on the kitchen floor."

"Unconscious?" I inquired succinctly.

"Yes," he said, "but she started to come around when I patted her cheek. She's really groggy, though, and she couldn't say what happened."

"I'll get your bag," Bella offered, quickly going into my office to fetch it.

"I got her into bed," the minister continued, "then I came right over… "

Bella returned with my bag, and I took it from her, then I ushered the minister outside. His home was only a few minutes' walk from my office; we could reach it faster on foot than by automobile, given the time required to start the motor.

We hurried along, Bella's hand in mine. As soon as we entered the house, the minister took us to the bedroom. Mrs. Joseph lay on the bed, curled onto her left side. I inhaled carefully, concerned to note a hint of blood. She had one hand over her abdomen. I worried that she was experiencing cramping.

The reverend stroked a bit of hair from her forehead, and she opened her eyes.

"Clara, Dr. Cullen is here," he told her.

She turned her head to look at me. "Oh," she murmured. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course," I replied, moving to her side.

Bella's hand remained in mine. I could feel the change in her skin temperature as her anxiety burgeoned. I gave her hand a gentle squeeze, then I pressed my fingers lightly over Mrs. Joseph's wrist.

"Can you tell me what happened?" I asked her, watching her eyes carefully. Her pupils were equal and appropriately contracted given the light in the room.

She appeared lucid as she replied softly, "I was starting supper, and I felt dizzy."

I knew she had experienced a number of dizzy spells related to her pregnancy. Still, she had not lost consciousness before. With some concern, I inquired, "Was this one worse than the others?"

"No, not really… but I was holding a bowl of green beans, and I didn't want to drop them." She glanced at her husband. "I know they're your favorite. I should have sat down right away, I suppose. I tried to get to the table, but I stumbled. I hit my head…"

She lifted her hand to touch the area above her right ear. I slid my fingers from Bella's grasp, and within few seconds I felt her hand at my back.

I parted Mrs. Joseph's hair to find a light abrasion with a contusion beneath. I cleaned the wound then checked for any signs of significant head injury. She showed no troubling symptoms. I had seen her at the office a few days previously, but I still performed a brief examination to ensure that nothing was amiss. I could hear the tiny flutter of the baby's heart; it was steady and strong.

"Everything looks fine," I reported to the relieved couple. "The dizziness should abate in a few weeks. In the meantime, I want you to take it easy. You need plenty of rest, and the moment you begin to feel light-headed, you must sit or lie down."

"I'll see that she does," the minister said, taking her hand. "I'll be home as much as possible."

She looked up at him. "But the congregation needs you."

"You and our child need me more," he replied.

I told Mrs. Joseph that I would stop in to see her tomorrow, then Bella and I bid the Josephs good-bye. Her hand slipped into mine again as soon as we stepped outside. The drizzle continued, and the air was chillier now. A little shudder ran through her.

I realized that her hair and clothing were damp from the walk over. Neither of us had thought to take a wrap as we hurried from the office, so I had no jacket to offer her. By the time we returned to the office, she was shivering. Her complexion was pale, too.

I wrapped her shawl around her as soon as we stepped inside. However, she remained chilled. She needed to change out of her damp clothes.

"Let's go home," I said.

She nodded, and soon we were driving out of town. She continued to shiver. The rain was a steady patter now, and the air had cooled further. I wished I could offer her comfort in my arms, but my cold body would only chill her more.

Bella's teeth were chattering when we drove up to the house. I helped her from the motorcar and hastened to get her inside.

"Carlisle," I said, knowing her would hear me, "please make a fire."

Immediately I heard the sounds of kindling in the grate and the scritch of a match striking. Esme met us at the door, taking in my wife's bedraggled appearance instantly.

"Goodness, dear!" she exclaimed. "You're freezing."

Carlisle darted out of the parlor. "Bella?" he questioned with concern.

"She needs to get into some dry clothes," I said succinctly.

"Let me help you, sweetheart," Esme offered, taking Bella's arm. Quickly yet gently she led her upstairs.

Carlisle gave me a questioning look. He knew I would not purposely allow Bella to be out in the rain.

"We had to go see a patient," I explained briefly. "It seemed urgent, and we rushed off without taking any wraps… She got a little damp on the walk over, and she got even more chilled as we returned to the office."

"How is the patient?" he asked.

"She's all right, I think…"

But I was distracted with thoughts of Bella. I could hear Esme's soft voice and the slight stir of fabric was she quickly removed my wife's clothes. Esme brought a towel from the bathroom and dried Bella's hair, speaking gently as she worked.

"You're still shivering, honey," she commented. "Let me help you downstairs so you can sit near the fire."

Carlisle and I exchanged worried looks, then I dashed up the stairs to intercept my mother and wife. Bella was wrapped in her warmest robe and had thick socks on her feet. Esme had one arm around her.

"Come, darling," I said, lifting Bella and carrying her down the stairs quickly.

Carlisle had pulled one of the chairs up as close to the fire as was prudent. I set her on it, and Esme tucked a blanket over her legs.

"Should I make tea?" Esme asked softly.

I gave her a grateful nod. She left for the kitchen, Carlisle right behind her, saying to me, "We'll give you a little time alone." He cast me a meaningful look.

I realized now that Bella's continued light shivering was due to more than a chill. I knelt before her, taking a few moments to warm my hands in the fire before cupping her cheeks lightly.

"Sweetheart, what is it?" I asked. "Do you feel ill?"

She shook her head. "No, Edward. I just…" She swallowed. "I was worried about Mrs. Joseph. I kept remembering Mrs. McMahon and how terrible that was for her and her husband. And I couldn't help but think…" She inhaled shakily. "What if that happened to us?"

I pulled her into my arms, silently chastising myself for exposing her to a potentially stressful situation. "Sshh, darling. Please don't worry about that. You're doing very well, and the baby's heartbeat is strong and healthy. Everything is progressing just as it should."

"I know that objectively," she said, her cheek pressed to my shoulder as my hand stroked over her hair. "I just… it's been a difficult day. I suppose I'm just a little emotional."

"Were you worried about Calvin, too?" I should have realized that she would be deeply concerned about the child. She was so compassionate.

"A little." She lifted her head to look into my eyes. "But I was more worried about you."

"Oh Bella…" I kissed her forehead softly, letting my lips linger on her soft skin.

She took a small, shuddering breath. "I was afraid you would feel his pain, even with Carlisle there. I'm sorry I couldn't help you—I should have tried—"

"Sshh, darling, please don't think that. Carlisle made sure that I didn't have to touch Calvin; he was superb, really in his anticipation of what I would need. The surgery went perfectly. I didn't feel anything at all."

"I'm glad," she murmured, her voice thick. I could see that something was still troubling her, though.

"What is it, love?" I asked tenderly.

"Mrs. Joseph. Is she really all right?"

"Yes."

But Bella's expression showed clearly that she was worried about what the future would hold for the woman. I wiped tears from her cheeks, offering her an apologetic smile before I kissed her gently. Platitudes were not what she needed, so I said nothing more.

I held her for a long time. Her little tremors had ceased, and when Esme brought the tea, Bella drank it with relatively steady hands. The two women sat by the fire, and Bella calmed further in my mother's loving presence.

Esme insisted on preparing supper for Bella, although Bella sat in the kitchen with her as she worked. I did not give Bella the option to accompany me to the Jensens' farm. I merely told her that Carlisle and I were going and would return soon.

Calvin was uncomfortable but showed no signs of post-surgical difficulties. I administered a small dose of morphine to help him sleep soundly and promised to return in the morning. His parents were grateful, thanking both Carlisle and me for our help.

We returned just as Esme was dishing up the meal. Bella ate sparingly but did manage to have a decent amount of the nutritious stew. I knew that my wife was tired, the taxing day taking a toll on her. By eight o'clock, her body was succumbing to her exhaustion, so I urged her to go to bed. Both Carlisle and Esme assured her that they would see her soon, offering hugs and kisses as she retired. I held her until she fell asleep.

I had not seen her this exhausted in some time. I felt terribly; I had not anticipated the degree of anxiety Calvin's surgery would bring her. Combined with her sudden fears for Mrs. Joseph, the day's events had left her both emotionally and physically drained. I would not subject her to another experience like this. It was time that I make a decision; it was time for a change.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	63. Chapter 63

I was not particularly good company that night. Carlisle and Esme understood my taciturnity, but I could tell that it worried them. Perhaps they were hoping to cheer me when they asked that I accompany them outside. They led me to the shed where we kept the automobile. I had left it parked in front of the house in my haste to get Bella into warm, dry clothes, and Carlisle had driven his motorcar when we went to see Calvin. So I had not seen the inside of the shed since the morning.

I could not help but smile at the results of Esme's labors. The small shed was now large enough for two vehicles, and shelves had been installed along the walls. The interior was painted, too, and the roof was sturdier, keeping out the rain.

"You'll need a garage if you have two motorcars," Esme informed me with a charming grin. "Architects are including them in plans for new homes now."

"And you'll want some space for the cans of oil, spare tires, and cleaning rags," Carlisle added, motioning toward the shelving.

"Now," Esme continued, "I want to put in a covered walkway so that Bella won't get wet when it's raining. That will be especially important when she has the baby with her. I didn't have time to do that today, but I'm sure I can accomplish that on our next visit."

I hugged her. "Thank you."

She smiled up at me. "You're welcome, Edward. I truly enjoyed doing it."

My mood was somewhat less dour for the remainder of the night. Carlisle and Esme kept our conversation relatively light; I knew they were trying to cheer me. They left just after midnight, promising to return as soon as they could. However, Carlisle was scheduled to be on duty all but one night for the next two weeks.

"You know," Esme mused, "I suppose I could come back by myself to build the breezeway…" Her tone was slightly hesitant. I knew she had not away from Carlisle for more than a dozen hours at a time since her change.

"You don't need to do that," I replied, "but it's a kind offer. Perhaps if you send me plans I can do it." It would give me something to occupy my time once I ceased working… An involuntary sigh escaped me.

"You will be in our thoughts." Esme hugged me tightly. "Take care, sweetheart."

Carlisle embraced me next. "If you ever need me, just send a wire. I'll come as soon as I can."

"Thank you," I responded. This was a poor solution, though. I could not ask him to desert his own patients to help me treat mine.

They drove away, leaving me feeling rather bereft. I returned to the house and climbed the stairs. Bella lay upon her side, her hair tousled on the pillow next to her. Her breathing was soft and steady; she was sleeping soundly. I stood in the doorway for a long time, listening to the soothing sound of two heartbeats.

* * *

><p>I suspected that Bella would object to my plan, so decided to begin the process before telling her about it. I knew it might be some time before things were completely settled, but with telephone service soon to arrive I felt we could manage for the short-term.<p>

The telephone lines were installed with relative efficiency, and less than a week after Calvin's surgery Bella and I had telephones in both our home and office. The Webers had one of the devices at the store, and a handful other townspeople and farmers did, as well. Bella was delighted when we telephoned Esme and were able to speak to her in Eugene.

Fortunately the office had been quiet; we had seen only a few patients, and none had caused any intense reactions for my wife. Now that I could reach her quickly, I wanted her to remain at home most of the day. The weather had turned cold and wet, and I knew this would bring a number of illnesses eventually. I wished to protect her from infection from patients as well as from exposure to the elements.

The day after the telephones were installed, I did not wake her as usual to accompany me to the office. I permitted her to sleep until she was rested. She woke just after 8:30, stretching languorously. The long slumber had benefited her.

"Good morning, love," I greeted, entering the room.

"Mmm, morning," she said with a yawn. She smiled, then her eyes moved to the clock on the dresser. She blinked. "It's 8:35? Edward, why didn't you wake me?"

She began to get out of bed, but I darted to her side. "You were sleeping so soundly, and you need more rest now. Why don't you go back to sleep for a bit."

"Don't be silly. I feel fine—really good, actually. Just give me fifteen minutes to wash up and get dressed—"

"But you don't need to," I said gently. "We have the telephone now. I'll call you if I need you."

She frowned. "You don't want me to come with you today?"

"Love, I always want you with me. But we've discussed this. We agreed that once we had the telephone you wouldn't need to work as much, only when really necessary."

"I'm not sure we agreed to _exactly_ that," she said, her eyebrows drawing together.

"Let's try it for a day or two and see how it works."

"Mrs. Joseph is scheduled to come in tomorrow," she reminded me unnecessarily. "I need to be there for her appointment."

"Yes. She's coming in at one, so you can come after lunch," I replied reasonably.

Bella was not terribly pleased, but she did not argue. She made me promise that I would telephone her immediately if there was any chance that I would need to have direct contact with a patient, and I agreed. However, I hoped I would not need to summon her.

As it turned out, the office was quiet again. Bella telephoned me twice to inquire about the day's events. I was glad to hear her lovely voice; I missed her. It was comforting to know that we could speak even when she was not with me.

* * *

><p>Spending some time alone had its benefits. I was able to write the necessary letters and bank drafts without Bella's knowledge. I would explain my actions to her soon, but for now I wished to complete the preliminary steps clandestinely.<p>

Angela posted the letters for me shortly before noon the next day. Bella entered the store moments later.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, smiling when she saw me, "I didn't know you were here."

"I have a few letters to send," I replied as casually as I could. However, my expression may have betrayed me. I moved to her side to kiss her cheek quickly.

She gave me a quizzical look, but Angela's presence stopped her from asking me any questions. The two women chatted pleasantly for a few minutes. I discovered that Angela had telephoned Bella and invited her to lunch, hence my wife's early arrival in town.

Angela asked if I would like to join them for the meal, but I politely declined, saying I had some paperwork at the office. Bella told me she would be there before 1:00, then she and Angela went through the door to the house. I heard Rosemary waking and was glad that Bella would have some time with the baby.

As soon as she arrived at the office, Bella inquired about the letters I had sent. She knew that we did not need to order any of the usual supplies at the present time.

"You had such an odd look on your face," she finished. "Is anything the matter? Is there a patient you aren't telling me about?" She thought there was something special I required to treat an unusual disease.

"No, love," I replied. I suppose she heard the regret in my tone; she knew me very well.

Her pretty brow furrowed. "Then to whom were you writing?"

"To a couple of journal publishers," I replied vaguely. Perhaps she would think I was simply renewing my subscriptions.

"Oh…"

Fortunately Mrs. Joseph arrived a few minutes early, ending the conversation for the moment. I did not wish to have this discussion at the office. It would be better to wait until we were home.

Mrs. Joseph was doing well. Her dizzy spells had subsided as she entered her second trimester, and she felt more energetic. Still, I cautioned her to get plenty of rest and to scale back on her activities. She often accompanied her husband on calls to families who were struggling with various issues. I knew that she and the reverend would pitch in whenever they were needed, including helping with housework and farm chores. I strongly recommended that she remain at home whenever possible. She agreed, knowing that her baby's safety was the priority now.

* * *

><p>The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully. I had taken the motorcar that morning, so Bella had walked into town to enjoy the fine autumn day. As long as she strolled unhurriedly, the exercise was beneficial for her. She had planned to use the buggy if she needed to join me quickly. I looked forward to the day when she would have her own safe automobile. The Cadillac would arrive in Portland within the next two weeks.<p>

In the meantime, I supposed we would continue on as we had for the last two days. I knew my letters would not reach the publishing houses for at least a week, and the advertisements would not appear in the journals for several more weeks. I hoped I would receive some responses relatively soon.

We had been home for only a short while before Bella questioned me again.

"Edward," she began, pausing as she cut carrots, "you started your journal subscriptions less than a year ago. It's not time to renew them yet, is it?"

I was slicing potatoes. I did not look up. "No."

"Then why were you sending those letters?" I could hear the puzzlement in her voice.

Now I did lift my head to meet her inquisitive gaze. I set down the knife and reached across the table to take both of her hands in mine.

"Sweetheart, I'm placing advertisements in the journals."

She did not understand. "Advertisements? What sort?"

I took a breath. "Advertisements for a physician to come here and take over the practice."

Her eyes widened. "Edward! What—"

"Darling, it's the only solution. I can't practice effectively on my own, and once the baby is born you'll need to be here with him or her, not at the office with ill and injured patients."

"But we can use the telephone—" she began.

I shook my head. "That's not a permanent way to solve the problem. Even now, I don't want to risk exposing you and the baby to any contagious diseases. I won't risk your well-being in any way, including exposure to blood. Sweetheart, you and our child are the most important things in the world to me, and I have to know that you are both safe."

Bella's eyes filled with tears. "But you love practicing medicine… and everyone here trusts you."

I nodded gravely. "I love you more. And the community will learn to trust someone else."

"But there's no one else who is as skilled as you—except for Carlisle, of course."

"I'm going to find someone very good," I said, but even as I spoke I knew this might not be entirely true. Still, a trained physician, even a relatively inexperienced one, was preferable to no medical help at all.

"Madras never had a doctor until you came," Bella reminded me. "I'm not sure you'll be able to find someone willing to move here." She was hoping to dissuade me; I had anticipated that she would. Even so, there was a hint of resignation in her tone now.

"I've offered a fairly generous incentive," I admitted. "And I've guaranteed a good salary for the first two years. With telephone service now, Madras won't feel quite as remote. And I imagine there will be more automobiles in the near future, too, so it will be easier to travel to the bigger towns." I waited a few moments then continued, "Bella, this is the only way for you and our child to remain safe. You are my highest priority, now and forever. I want to take care of you—of both of you—and to do that I need to be fully cognizant and completely well myself. Perhaps I was foolish to begin something here that I could not finish..."

She leaned forward to press her hand over my cheek. "No, Edward, don't think that. You've helped so many people. Rosemary and Angela wouldn't be here without you, and Mrs. Withers and Mrs. McMahon probably wouldn't be, either. You've made the lives of dozens of people better. No matter what happens, you must remember that."

My wonderful wife was trying to comfort me. I smiled sadly and opened my arms to her. "Thank you, love."

She moved to sit in my lap, and I enveloped her gently within my embrace. I kissed her hair and her brow. She remained teary-eyed, but I could tell that she had accepted the situation. She understood that it was for the best.

After a few minutes, she spoke again. Her voice was soft. "It might be best if we moved away."

"What?" I questioned, wondering if I had misheard her.

A sigh escaped her. "After you find another doctor, perhaps we should move elsewhere. It would help us to avoid having to answer too many questions."

"I thought we could tell people that my illness had returned," I replied.

She shook her head. "I think they would still try to seek your help. It would be very difficult for you to refuse them." She met my gaze, and I could see the truth of her words.

Even so, I said, "But you have your friends here, and your father…"

"We'll keep the farm, and we can visit sometimes. But it would probably be best to make a new start somewhere else." She blinked at the fresh tears threatening to spill.

"Oh Bella," I said, pulling her even closer, "I love you so much. Thank you for understanding."

She tried to swallow back a sob, but I whispered gently to let it go. I held her as she wept, her small body shaking as she cried for her home, for her friends, and for the life we might have had.

Fate was a cruel mistress indeed. She had brought me Bella, whose gift allowed me to pursue my beloved vocation. And then she had given me a child, whose safety could only be assured by keeping Bella's gift from me.

* * *

><p>Bella and I decided it was best to keep our plans to ourselves for the time being. I did not know how long it would take to bring a new physician to town. Until the position was filled, we would continue on as well as we could. I vowed to myself to utilize all due caution, however.<p>

Unfortunately, even my vigilance could not keep Bella entirely safe. I had only called her to assist me twice the following week, but somehow she caught a cold. Truthfully, it was likely the result of exposure to someone outside the office, as we had not treated any respiratory illnesses. Still, I felt terribly when she awoke on Saturday morning with a sore throat.

I looked at her tonsils, relieved that they were not inflamed. She was running a low-grade fever, however, and by the time I had prepared breakfast for her, she was beginning to sniffle. She was tired, too, and mildly achy. She did not protest when I suggested that she rest quietly for most of the day.

By Sunday she was sneezing and suffering through the typical nasal symptoms, alternating between mucus and congestion. Her fever was no worse, however, and by Monday morning she said she was feeling a little better. She had begun to cough during the night, but her lungs were clear, and her temperature was only two-tenths of a degree above normal.

I had a patient scheduled in the morning, but I felt certain I could manage without Bella's assistance. I had been treating Miss Essie, the proprietress of the rooming house, for anemia, but I could assess her condition with a few inhalations and a quick look inside her mouth. I also planned to see Mrs. Withers today. I always liked to feel her pulse, but this would only require a few seconds, and I did not think it would affect me.

I promised Bella that I would telephone her throughout the day, and she agreed to call me if she needed anything. Angela had telephoned the previous night, and when I told her that Bella was ill she had said she would prepare some soup and bring it in time for lunch. I was comforted with the knowledge that our friend would look in on Bella and notify me right away if my wife required anything.

The day passed without incident. Miss Essie was doing somewhat better, while Mrs. Withers was slightly worse. Still, her tenacity of spirit kept her hanging on. I knew she was cheered by my visit, although she was disappointed that Bella was not with me. I explained that Bella had a cold, eliciting Mrs. Withers' sympathy, as well as a few words of homespun advice. I thanked her and left her with a kiss on her cheek. She was not in significant pain, but she was very weak.

I was glad to return home early. I had spoken with Bella several times, but it was good to see her so that I could assess her condition in person. She was coughing more, but she said she felt less congested. Her slight fever remained, but her lungs were still clear. She told me that she had enjoyed Angela's soup and had eaten quite a bit of it. I made a mental note to thank Angela for her kindness and care.

Bella and I sat before the fire that evening. The weather had turned chilly, and a storm was blowing in. We could hear the thunder in the distance. I commented that I was grateful for our warm, cozy house; the cold, wet air outside would only exacerbate Bella's illness.

* * *

><p>The rain fell steadily throughout the night. Bella slept fairly well; her coughing ceased while she slumbered. Still, I lay beside her, listening to her breathing and checking her fever several times.<p>

It was barely dawn when I heard the sound of hoofbeats outside. I sat up, listening intently. I could hear the wheels of a heavy wagon moving over the muddy ground. Someone was approached the house.

There had only been a few instances when I had been summoned from home. I knew it was a serious situation for a farmer to come for me, particularly at this early hour. I tucked in my shirt and stepped into the hallway, lighting a lantern as I hurried down the stairs.

I opened the door to see Mr. Jensen pulling up in his wagon. His heart was beating rapidly; he was very anxious.

"What's happened?" I asked immediately, moving onto the porch.

"It's our youngest girl, Cora," he said. "She went out to the barn to check on the kittens— they're up in the loft. She must've slipped and fallen… I found her lying on the ground."

"Is she conscious?"

"She was coming around when I left. Says her arm hurts something fierce. I was going to bring her to you, but when I tried to move her, she couldn't bear the pain. Her arm looks all wrong, too."

I nodded. "Let me get my bag."

I dashed inside and up the stairs. Bella was still sleeping; she had not heard Mr. Jensen drive up. It only took a moment's thought for me to decide to let her sleep. I would evaluate Cora's condition before rousing Bella and taking her out in the rain. If necessary, I could give the girl morphine to alleviate her pain then bring her to our house, where Bella could assist me.

I wrote a brief note to Bella: _Gone to the Jensens' farm; C. hurt. Will bring back here if necessary. Stay safe and warm, my love. –E._

I placed the note beside the clock, knowing she would see it there. Then I pulled on my shoes and jacket and hurried outside, remembering my hat just as I closed the door. Mr. Jensen motioned for me to climb into the wagon, so I quickly clambered up. He flicked the reins, and the horses took off.

We reached his farm in about fifteen minutes. The skies remained dark and gray; I could see the glow of lantern light inside the barn. He reined in the horses, and we both jumped from the wagon.

Inside the barn we found the whole family clustered around Cora, who remained lying on the floor. She had a blanket over her but was shivering. I could tell immediately that she was in shock.

"Dr. Cullen's here," Mr. Jensen said. The children stepped back, but Mrs. Jensen stayed at her daughter's side, one hand on her head.

I knelt beside the girl quickly, assessing her with all my senses. Her breathing was uncompromised, although her breaths were rapid and shallow.

"Cora," I said, "can you look at me, sweetheart?"

She opened her eyes. They were glazed with pain, but her pupils were equal, and I saw no indication of serious head injury. Still, I ran my hands over her skull rapidly then gently assessed the cervical vertebrae. Her hair prevented me from experiencing significant pain, but as my finger brushed over her temple my shoulder throbbed. I withdrew my hands quickly.

After taking a steadying breath, I told her, "I'm going to feel your shoulder and arm. I know it hurts, honey, and I'll give you something to help in just a minute."

She remained dazed, and barely acknowledged me. However, the moment my hand came to rest over her shoulder, she cried out and tried to twist away. Mrs. Jensen had tears running down her face, but she held her daughter still and tried to soothe her with soft words.

Cora's nightdress was damp, the thin fabric clinging to her, so I was able to examine her without touching her skin directly. I determined quickly that the humerus had separated from the scapula at the glenohumeral joint. I felt no obvious breaks in the bones; the shoulder seemed to have taken the brunt of the fall. She had suffered a sub-coracoid anterior dislocation. I would still need to assess for hairline fractures later, once she was sedated.

"Her shoulder is dislocated," I reported. "I need to fix it." I looked up at Mr. Jensen. "The children should wait in the house."

He ushered them outside while I prepared an injection of morphine for Cora. She was sobbing quietly, clearly in considerable pain.

"This will help it to stop hurting," I informed her kindly. "I'm going to take care of your shoulder in just a moment. You'll feel much better soon."

I administered the morphine then asked both parents to step back so that I could perform the reduction. I tore away part of the girl's nightgown to expose the shoulder and arm, then I gingerly placed my hand upon her shoulder, waiting a few seconds to be certain the medication had dulled the pain somewhat. Even so, my shoulder ached deeply. Gripping the child's arm, I quickly shifted the humerus back into place. A sharp gasp then a hoarse cry escaped her, but the muted pain began to recede. I stroked her hair, breathing slowly until the discomfort left my mind.

Once my thoughts were clear again, I felt over the area to ensure that the bone was properly aligned. Working to keep my expression from betraying the ache I still felt, I checked her axillary, brachial, and radial pulses, satisfied that all were strong. There was no impairment in blood flow.

"There we are," I said, forcing myself to smile as the remnants of pain faded. "Is that better?"

She nodded. The morphine was taking effect nicely. Before it left her too drowsy to think or speak clearly, I asked if anything else hurt. She shook her head.

I smelled no evidence of internal bleeding. Even so, I spent a few minutes feeling carefully over her limbs, spine, and abdomen. The shoulder pain was very subtle now, and it only niggled at my mind. Still, I was relieved when I finished my examination and could tuck the blanket around her.

"Let's get her inside," I said, lifting her carefully into my arms.

Mr. and Mrs. Jensen led me into the house. Calvin, Tess, and Margaret waited with wide eyes, watching as I carried their sister into their parents' room.

"She's going to be fine," I assured them with a small smile.

I placed Cora on the bed then asked her mother to remove her damp nightdress. Mrs. Jensen worked carefully to dry her daughter, then she wrapped her in a thick blanket until the child began to warm. I checked her eyes again and listened to her lungs. It seemed that the dislocated shoulder was her only major injury.

After Mrs. Jensen dressed Cora in a sleeveless nightgown, I placed a sling on the injured arm. I was just giving Mr. and Mrs. Jensen a few basic instructions when Calvin exclaimed, "Someone's coming!"

I looked out the window to see Ben approaching in his small buggy, spurring the horse to a fast gallop. Suddenly I was drawn back to that fateful night when he had come to ask for my help with Angela and the baby. I shook my head to clear my dire thoughts. What was he doing here? Had something happened to his wife or child?

Mr. Jensen and I hastened outside as he reached the house. Ben's expression was grim.

"Ben?" I questioned warily.

"Edward, thank God you're here." He took a steadying breath. "You've got to come back with me. It's Bella…"

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	64. Chapter 64

"Bella?" I repeated, momentarily stunned. I had left her sleeping; she was not seriously ill. Was it the baby?

"She telephoned us," Ben began to explain. "She's in a lot of pain—"

"What kind of pain?" I asked, dreading his response.

"She thinks it might be broken," he replied.

"Broken?" It took me a moment to process these words. He did not mean that her waters had broken, did he? "What might be broken?"

"Her hand."

I remained perplexed, but I had the presence of mind to hurry back inside and gather my things. Mrs. Jensen helped me on with my jacket, assuring me that she could take care of Cora.

"Thank you, Dr. Cullen," she said. "I hope Mrs. Cullen will be all right."

I barely acknowledged the sentiment in my haste to climb into the buggy with Ben. I would have preferred to run back to the house—I could have reached Bella sooner—but even in my worried state I understood that such an act would be imprudent.

"What happened?" I asked Ben as soon as I was seated beside him.

He snapped the reins, and the horse began to gallop. "Bella said she was trying to start the motorcar," he explained. "I guess the engine backfired? She said the crank jerked really hard…"

"Oh lord," I moaned, running a hand through my hair. "I should never have taught her how to work that damned thing. What was she doing starting the motorcar, anyway?"

"She said something about coming out here to help you."

Compunction flooded me. Still, I managed to ask, "Aside from her hand, was she hurt elsewhere?"

"I'm not sure," he answered. "We gathered up the baby and went out to your place right after she telephoned, and Ange sent me straight for you."

This information did nothing to allay my fears. We rode in silence for several minutes, then Ben asked, "How's the Jensen boy? Was he hurt badly?"

"Calvin? He's fine… It was Cora, the youngest girl. She dislocated her shoulder, but she should be all right."

"That's good…"

We did not speak again until my home came into sight. I had to restrain myself from leaping out of the buggy and dashing inside. As it was, the moment Ben slowed the horse, I jumped down and ran to the house. I hoped I had kept my pace at least partially human…

I could hear three heartbeats from the porch. I easily identified the most rapid one as my wife's. There was a faint aroma of blood, too. I opened the door.

"Bella!" I called out, instantly realizing that she was in the parlor.

I heard her say faintly, "Edward." The relief in her voice was almost palpable.

"We're in here," Angela said.

I rushed into the parlor to find Bella curled on the couch, her right hand cradled against her bosom. Angela sat on a chair beside her, with Rosemary in a basket on the floor. Angela rose and stepped back the moment I entered the room.

"Darling," I said, kneeling next to my wife. I kissed her brow, noting the coolness of her skin. A blanket was draped over her legs, but her clothes were damp.

"Edward," she murmured. She took a breath. "Is Calvin all right?"

"He wasn't hurt," I assured her. "It was Cora, and she's going to be fine."

As delicately as I could, I eased her arm away from her chest, resting my fingers against the pulse point in her wrist. There was already some swelling at the injury site. "Let me see," I said, my tone close to pleading.

She gave a little, pained gasp but did not try to stop me. As gently as possible, I felt over her hand and wrist. At the slender protrusion of the radius, just where it joined the scaphoid, I found the fracture. It was, fortunately, non-displaced; I would be able to set it without undue difficulty.

"Is it broken?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

I nodded. "Yes, love. But the bone is still in place, so it will be relatively easy to set."

She sniffled. I realized that she was crying silently. Her nose was red and runny; her cold was certainly not helping her overall condition. Angela passed me a clean handkerchief, and I tenderly wiped Bella's cheeks and nose.

Then I opened my bag and prepared a syringe with morphine. It was a low dose; I could not risk any more for fear of it affecting the baby. But it would be sufficient to mitigate the worst of her pain.

Bella had closed her eyes. When she felt me rolling up her sleeve, however, she looked at me questioningly, concern in her expression.

"It won't harm the baby," I assured her, swiftly delivering the injection. "Sweetheart, were you hurt elsewhere? Do you have any abdominal or back pain?"

"I… I don't think so," she replied softly. "I fell back when it happened, but I don't think I landed that hard…"

"All right. I'm going to move you to our room and have a better look at you. I'll set your wrist once some of the swelling goes down."

Angela had remained quiet. I was aware that Ben had entered the house, too, and was standing anxiously just outside the parlor. Now Angela spoke, asking kindly, "Is there anything I can do, Edward?"

"She needs ice for her wrist," I replied. "Could you chip some off from the block in the icebox, and wrap it in a towel?"

"Of course," she responded.

I looked up just as she was turning to leave the room. "Thank you both for coming and helping her."

Ben nodded, and Angela gave me a small, sad smile. Then they hurried to the kitchen. As gently as possible, I gathered Bella into my arms and carried her up the stairs. I set her on the bed, stacking several pillows beside her then carefully placing her arm upon them.

"How is the pain?" I asked.

"Better."

Angela brought the ice shortly, and I placed the pack over Bella's wrist. I could hear Rosemary downstairs. She was becoming fussy; I knew she had begun teething recently.

"Is there anything else you need?" Angela asked considerately. "I can make some breakfast…"

"Thank you," I replied, "but that's not necessary. I don't want to keep you. You need to open the store and get Rosemary home."

She nodded. "Please telephone if there's anything at all that we can do." She was so sincere.

Touched by her kindness, I took her hand, offering her a grateful smile. She kissed Bella's cheek and told her she hoped she would feel better soon. I thanked our friends again then returned my attention to my wife.

"How are you feeling now, love?" I asked.

"A little fuzzy…"

"That's the morphine," I reminded her.

She moved her left hand to her belly, rubbing softly. I placed my hand beside hers.

"Are you feeling any discomfort here?" I asked hesitantly.

She shook her head. Even so, I felt over her abdomen carefully, listening to the steady little heartbeat to assure myself that our child was unharmed. I also checked her back and hips in case she had sustained any serious bruising when she fell. For once, it seemed that luck, such as it was, had been on Bella's side. She was not badly bruised. Her hand had taken the fullest force of the impact.

After a few minutes, I lifted the ice pack to check her wrist. She followed my motions with her eyes.

I remained unsure about why the accident had occurred. She had known where I was, but it seemed that she had disregarded my advice to remain at home. I did not wish to criticize or blame her; I simply wanted to understand what had happened. Perhaps I had been unclear.

"Darling," I asked, "didn't you read my note?"

"I did."

"Then why were you trying to start the motorcar? I asked you to stay here."

"I thought Calvin was hurt," she replied softly. "He's such a dear boy; I wanted to help…"

Instantly realizing my error, I uttered, "Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry. I should have specified which of the children it was."

"I still would have wanted to assist you."

"I know, and I appreciate it." I kissed her gently.

Then I helped her to undress, removing her damp clothing and easing her into a loose nightdress that would not touch her sensitive arm.

Once this was done, I explained, "I'm going to place a temporary splint on your wrist for now, then I'll set it properly once the swelling goes down."

I positioned the splint to support her wrist and hand lightly, keeping the wrapping loose. She winced a bit as I worked but did not appear to experience significant pain.

After I had finished, I replaced the ice pack then tucked a blanket around her and told her to try to rest. When she seemed to doze, I went downstairs to the telephone.

I placed a call to Eugene. Esme was usually at home; it was rare that she went out without Carlisle, who was most likely working. I hoped she would be in today. I needed to speak with her.

"Hello?" her lovely, sweet voice greeted.

"Esme," I breathed out in relief. Just hearing her voice helped me to feel calmer.

She could read the tension in my tone. "Edward? What's the matter?"

"Bella's had an accident," I began.

"Oh no! Is she all right?"

"For the most part. She was the trying to start the automobile, and it backfired. The crank jolted back and broke her wrist."

Esme gasped. "The poor dear!"

I was immensely relieved to hear Carlisle's voice in the background. I would welcome any advice he could offer. In a few moments, he had replaced Esme on the telephone line.

"Edward," he said, "what happened?"

"Bella's got a fracture of the radial styloid process."

"Displaced?" he asked gravely.

"Non-displaced. I should be able to set it once the swelling subsides."

"Thank God. Was she hurt elsewhere?"

"Not badly. She's got a few contusions from falling back, but nothing else is broken. The baby doesn't appear to be in any distress, either."

I could hear Esme breathe a long sigh of relief at this news. "Is there anything we can do?" she asked.

"Actually," I replied, "there is. Esme, I know it's a great deal to ask, but would you be able to come for a little while to help Bella? She'll need someone with her all the time, and—"

Before I could even finish my explanation, she said, "Yes, Edward, of course. I'll stay as long as you need me."

She promised that she would pack the few items she required and leave within the hour. After she dashed off, Carlisle and I spoke for several minutes about the injury and the best way to treat it. I had set bones before—several dozen—but he had performed such procedures thousands of times. He must have sensed the slight hesitation in my words as we discussed Bella's fracture.

"Son," he said, "I can come with Esme if you wish, if you feel a second opinion would be helpful." His tone was deferential and respectful, which I appreciated.

"Can you get away for the day?" I asked. "You have your own patients to attend to…"

"It's not a problem. I wasn't scheduled to be on shift until tonight, and I'm certain I can find another physician to take my place."

"If it's not an inconvenience, I'd be grateful," I replied.

"Let me make the arrangements. Esme and I should be able to leave well before noon."

The knowledge that my parents would be here in the space of a few hours was very comforting. "Thank you, Carlisle. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this."

"I'm glad to do it. Give Bella my love, and tell her I look forward to seeing her soon."

We bid our good-byes for the moment, then I returned to Bella's side. She opened her eyes, rubbing her left hand over her face.

"How are you feeling, darling?" I asked. Her cheeks were lightly flushed, and a touch of my hand revealed that she was slightly feverish. A little shiver ran through her.

"The ice is really cold," she replied.

I lifted the pack to assess the swelling. It had diminished somewhat. "Let's leave this off for a little while."

She nodded gratefully. "Were you on the telephone? I heard your voice downstairs."

"I'm sorry, love. Did I wake you?"

"No. I haven't really been sleeping."

I stroked her warm cheek softly. "I called Carlisle and Esme. They both want to come and help."

"Oh! That's very kind of them."

"Yes, it is. They should be here this afternoon."

Her hand moved to rest over her belly again. I knew she was protecting our child instinctively. She inhaled a little, shaky breath.

"What is it, Bella?" I asked, slightly alarmed. The baby's heartbeat remained steady.

"I put her in danger," she said, her voice tremulous. "I shouldn't have tried to start the motorcar… You told me it could backfire—"

"Sshh. You didn't know. It's a rare occurrence; you'd never seen it happen when I was using the crank."

"I just felt so worried about Calvin when I thought it was him. I kept remembering how he wanted to hold my hand before, and I thought I should be there for him."

"It was a very kind sentiment," I responded. "You have such a good heart."

She swallowed back a small sob. "I have to start thinking about the baby now, and only the baby. It's probably good that we're going to move… then I'll have only her to focus on." Yet her emotions betrayed her words. A tear rolled down her cheek. I knew it would break her heart to leave her friends and childhood home.

I kissed the salty trail then carefully lay down beside her, mindful not to jostle her arm in the slightest. Within my tender embrace, she fell into a fitful sleep. My hand slid down to caress the roundness of her abdomen.

I could feel our child stir and was comforted by the tiny motions. The baby appeared safe, but once again my wife and child had faced a threat—one that I could have prevented. I vowed anew to do all within my power to keep them from harm. I realized that we would likely need to leave before I could find a physician to replace me. I hated the idea of leaving my patients without care, but Bella and the baby were my priority.

This meant that our time in Madras was rapidly drawing to a close. I could not shed tears, but I felt the deep sense of sadness nonetheless.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued... Thank you for your patience.<em>

_Bravo to doll69 and melanieintn for guessing that Bella was injured while trying to start the car. Now, can anyone guess what will happen next? _;)_  
><em>


	65. Chapter 65

Bella was awake when Carlisle and Esme arrived. The morphine had left her drowsy, and she remained feverish, but she was not in significant pain. I had convinced her to eat a small lunch, knowing that she needed the sustenance for both herself and the baby.

"They're here," I told her when I heard the automobile approaching. I kissed her brow then hurried downstairs to greet my parents.

I provided them with a brief update on Bella's condition as we entered the house. They both wanted to see her, and I knew she would be comforted by their presence, so I showed them upstairs.

Bella smiled as they walked into the bedroom. Esme flitted to her side, placing a loving kiss on her cheek and stroking a bit of hair back from her forehead.

"How are you feeling, honey?" my mother asked, her voice full of concern.

"It's not too bad," Bella replied, grasping Esme's hand. "I'm glad you're here. Thank you for coming." She turned her head to look at Carlisle. "Both of you."

"Of course, dear," he responded. He rested the back of his hand against her cheek. "She's running a low-grade fever," he commented softly.

"Yes," I acknowledged, knowing that the ensuing conversation would be too quiet and quick for Bella's ears. "She's had a cold for the last several days. That's only exacerbated her body's response to the break."

He gave a brief nod. "Her lungs don't sound congested."

"No. I've been keeping a close eye on her."

"You've given her morphine. When was the last dose?"

"About an hour ago."

He shifted his gaze to Bella's face, offering her a gentle smile. "May I see your wrist, sweetheart?"

She nodded, so I lifted the ice pack. He spent a few moments studying the injury visually. Her forearm and hand had begun to bruise, but the area was not as swollen as it had been earlier in the day.

"The swelling has gone down," I reported. "I think it can be set this evening."

"Yes," he agreed. To Bella, he said, "I know that Edward has already told you this, but you'll feel much better as soon as he's set the bone and applied the cast."

Esme still held Bella's hand. "What can I do for you?" she asked. "Is there anything you need? Have you eaten?"

Bella smiled wanly. "Edward made some lunch for me, but thank you. Do you think…" She hesitated.

"What is it, honey?" Esme prompted tenderly.

Almost shyly, Bella asked, "Could you just sit with me for a little while?"

"There is nothing I would enjoy more," Esme replied.

I left Bella in my mother's capable hands while Carlisle and I prepared supplies downstairs. Esme joined us after about an hour, saying that she wished to make some soup for Bella's supper. While she busied herself in the kitchen, I checked on Bella again and determined that her wrist could be treated soon. I considered the procedure for several long minutes.

"Carlisle," I said when I began mixing the plaster of Paris, "would you set the bone?"

He appeared surprised by my request, taking a moment to answer. "If you wish."

"I'd prefer to err on the side of caution. You have so much more experience with closed reductions than I do."

"Edward, you are a very skilled physician," he replied.

"Thank you. I appreciate that. But in this case, I want the _most_ skilled physician."

He gave my shoulder a light squeeze in understanding. Then we finished preparing the materials and carried the supplies upstairs. I explained to Bella that I wanted Carlisle to set her wrist, and she did not protest. I knew she trusted him implicitly.

I sat beside Bella, holding her left hand to offer whatever comfort I could. I watched as Carlisle's practiced fingers removed the splint then examined the break methodically.

Bella's grip on my hand tightened as he worked quickly yet assiduously to set the bone, then wrapped soft cotton from her forearm to her knuckles before applying the cloth strips and plaster of Paris. I had always enjoyed watching him work, and I was particularly grateful for his efficiency and skill as he tended to my wife.

He was finished in a matter of minutes, and Bella sighed softly in relief.

"How does that feel, sweetheart?" he asked.

"Better," she replied.

He smiled kindly. "If you experience any numbness or tingling, tell Edward right away."

She nodded. While he tidied up, I remained at her side, kissing her temple and cheek periodically in hopes of soothing away the residual pain. Carlisle carried the basin and remnants of cotton and fabric downstairs, where I heard him tell Esme that the break was set and that Bella seemed fine.

I stayed with her until Esme brought a tray with soup and tea for her supper. Esme sat with her while she ate, chatting pleasantly about light-hearted topics. I appreciated my mother's efforts to keep my wife comfortable and content. I would be grateful for her presence over the next week as we made preparations for our move.

I wandered downstairs, feeling somewhat restive. Carlisle sensed my mood and came to stand beside me as I gazed out the window.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked gently.

"The future," I replied, "both immediate and distant."

"Hmm. And what does the immediate future hold?"

I wanted to share my plans for my practice when Carlisle and Esme were together; I felt it would be less painful to explain only once, so I hedged a bit. "I should go over to the Jensens' farm tonight to check on Cora."

He gave a nod of acknowledgement. I had mentioned the girl's injury briefly but had not provided any details. He asked, "Was it an anterior dislocation?"

"Yes, sub-coracoid."

"Did she have any other injuries?"

"I don't believe so, but she was unconscious for some time, so I'd like to check her again for head injury, just in case."

His expression became quite serious. "Edward, did you experience any discomfort while you were examining or treating her?"

"Only a few twinges," I replied honestly.

"She's likely in some pain now. Would you like for me to go and see her?"

This was a fine suggestion. I was loath to leave Bella, and with the anxiety of the day still lingering I knew that my mind would be very sensitive.

"If you don't mind, I'd be grateful."

"I don't mind at all. They're a fine family, and I'd enjoy seeing Calvin in full health."

There was a sparkle in his eyes, and I knew he was speaking the truth. It brought him such joy to help others and to see the results of his work. He set off soon with instructions to give the family my regards and offer my apologies for my abrupt departure.

I returned to Bella after he left. Esme sat in the chair beside the bed with Bella's sewing basket on her lap. She held a tiny nightdress in her hands.

"I was working on some baby clothes," Bella told me after I had kissed her tenderly. "I won't be able to sew for awhile, so Esme is going to help."

"Thank you," I told my mother.

"Oh, it's my pleasure," she replied. "I love to sew, and there's nothing more enjoyable than making clothes for a new baby."

"Did I hear the motorcar?" Bella asked as I settled beside her.

"Yes. Carlisle has gone to check on Cora."

"That was kind of him," she said.

I nodded in agreement. The next hour was spent in quiet conversation as Esme's hands moved rapidly over the fabric. She held up the finished little garment for Bella's approval, earning a pleased grin from my wife. This was followed by a yawn, however.

I rested my palm against her cheek. Her fever had not diminished. I inquired about her pain, but she said it was manageable. She confessed to feeling very sleepy, though. Esme gathered up the sewing supplies and stood.

"I'll take this downstairs. Sleep well, honey." She kissed Bella's brow then left us alone.

"I'm really glad they're here," she told me sleepily after I had checked her hand and begun tucking the blankets around her again.

"Me, too."

"Edward," she asked, fighting to remain awake for a few more moments, "do you think… we could consider moving… to Eugene?"

Honestly, I had not seriously contemplated where we would go. The beach house had flickered through my mind, but it would not a suit us as a permanent home. Bella's suggestion was a very good one. If we were living in Eugene, Carlisle and Esme would be close at all times. I knew my mother would be thrilled to help Bella with whatever she needed as she became more uncomfortable and less agile over the next three months. And having Carlisle available to assist with the birth would be wonderful.

"That's a fine idea," I replied, but Bella was already asleep.

I left her with a kiss upon her cheek and few whispered words of gratitude for her clever idea.

* * *

><p>Carlisle returned shortly. He reported that Cora was doing well. He had found no indications of other injury, and the circulation was good in her injured arm. He had enjoyed seeing Calvin and Mr. and Mrs. Jensen again, smiling as he gave me their wishes for Bella's good recovery.<p>

Despite his positive news, my thoughts were drawn to those terrible moments when I did not know how badly my wife was hurt. And even when I had found out that her injury was not grave, the knowledge that I had been the cause of it had been sobering.

Esme's gentle hand upon my arm drew me from my ruminations. She was studying me with concern.

"Come and sit with me in the parlor," I requested.

They followed me, settling on the sofa while I made a fire. We did not need the warmth, but the task provided me with a few minutes in which to gather my thoughts. When the flames were crackling, I sat in one of the wingback chairs, facing my parents. Their expressions told me that they were ready to listen.

"Bella was injured today because of me," I began. "When Mr. Jensen came for me, she was still asleep. I felt it was best not to wake her, so I left a note for her, telling her where I'd gone and assuring her that I would bring the child back here if I required her help. However, she thought it was Calvin who was hurt, and she decided to drive to the farm. She broke her wrist when she was trying to start the motorcar."

"Edward," Esme protested mildly, "that wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was," I replied. "I've relied upon her too much. I've placed a terrible burden upon her, expecting her to assist me and to support me, even when I knew it was harmful to her. Even before we realized that she was with child, she was reacting badly to blood. I should never have asked her to help me. It was unfair to her, and now she's got a fractured wrist because of it."

I looked at both of my parents, contrition in my eyes, then I continued. "I can't put her through something like this again. I won't."

"What are you thinking, son?" asked Carlisle. He could see that I had made a decision.

I took a slow, deep breath. "I have to give up my practice. If I attempt to continue without Bella, she will still worry terribly. The risks would be too great, anyway…" I did not need to say that I would be a poor father indeed if I suffered another breakdown.

"Oh Edward," Esme said, darting from her seat to embrace me. "I'm sorry. I know how much your patients mean to you, and to Bella."

I sighed. "That's the worst of it, really. We have several special patients, like Mrs. Withers, who needs palliative care. And Reverend Josesph's wife is expecting. I want her under a physician's care until she delivers in March… And there will be cases of croup and pneumonia this winter, I'm sure, as well as injuries and other illnesses. I don't want to abandon the community." I paused for a moment. "I've contacted several journals to place advertisements for a physician to replace me. I'm offering a generous incentive and guaranteeing a good salary for the first year. I hope that someone qualified will want to move here."

Esme and Carlisle exchanged a look. She asked me, "Do you really think that is the best solution?"

"I can think of no other," I said.

I felt terribly dispirited. I needed to be in Bella's presence, to hear her heartbeat and my child's to assure myself that this was the right decision.

"I just wanted you both to know what I have planned. Bella and I intend to move away, too, to prevent too many questions. If possible, we'd like to settle in Eugene. However, we don't wish to impose, so please think about it, and we can discuss it further tomorrow." I stood then murmured, "Excuse me."

I hurried upstairs, carefully settling myself beside Bella on the bed. Aware of my presence even in sleep, she shifted slightly to press her body against mine. I inhaled her glorious fragrance and allowed my fingers to tangle lightly in her hair. I would do anything for her, no matter how agonizing or arduous it might prove for me.

* * *

><p>Bella slept relatively well. When she woke in the morning her fever had diminished, and was just a touch above normal. She felt well enough to attend to her needs in the bathroom with only a bit of assistance from me. I helped her to wash her hand and face, then I brushed her hair and tied it back with a ribbon. She remained slightly pale, but she still looked beautiful.<p>

After I placed her arm in a sling, she told me that she would like to go downstairs for breakfast. I was pleased to hear this. It meant she was recovering well.

"I told Carlisle and Esme that we plan to leave Madras," I said before we left the bedroom. "I mentioned that we'd like to move to Eugene and asked them to think about it. Perhaps we can discuss it after breakfast?"

She agreed, so I escorted her down the stairs, keeping an arm around her in case she felt unsteady. Esme knew Bella was awake and had already put biscuits in the oven. She was preparing to scramble two eggs when we entered the kitchen.

Carlisle stood beside Esme, simply enjoying her presence. They both turned to greet Bella, though.

"Good morning, honey!" Esme said, smiling at the sight of her lovely daughter-in-law. "How did you sleep?"

"Pretty well," she replied.

Carlisle stepped over to kiss her cheek, silently assessing her temperature. "You're looking better this morning. How does your wrist feel?" He glanced down at her exposed fingers.

"It aches a little, but it's so much better than yesterday," she answered.

He nodded understandingly. "It should feel better each day."

"Thank you for taking care of it," she said, a pretty blush creeping over her cheeks.

"I'm sorry that you were hurt," he replied compassionately, "but I'm glad I was able to help you."

I pulled out Bella's chair and kept my arm at her elbow as she eased her body down. I knew she was achy from yesterday's fall, and entering her third trimester had certainly not helped her agility.

Esme brought a mug of hot cocoa, earning a little grin from my wife. I watched approvingly as she drank the entire warm beverage in a few long swallows. She ate the scrambled eggs and enjoyed two hot biscuits, as well.

We chatted idly as Bella ate. I had learned long ago that she felt slightly uncomfortable at the thought of my parents watching her eat, so I made sure to keep up a steady conversation. Bella was just finishing her second biscuit when the topic shifted to the Webers.

"How is that darling little Rosemary doing?" Esme asked. "She must be growing like a weed!"

Bella's face fell, and she set the last bit of biscuit on her plate. "She's… fine," she replied. Her thoughts, like mine, had shifted abruptly as we both realized we would not watch the child who had become like a niece to us grow up.

Esme sensed the change in mood. "Oh Bella, I'm sorry," she began. "I didn't mean to…"

Bella reached for her hand and forced a smile. "It's all right, Esme. I know Edward has told you about our plans. It's for the best; we both know that."

"But that doesn't make it any easier," Carlisle said, giving her cheek a brief caress. Then he looked at Esme for a moment, and some unspoken understanding passed between them.

Carlisle leaned back in his chair. I could tell there was something he wished to say. I moved closer to Bella, wrapping my arm around her shoulders.

"What is it, Carlisle?" I asked.

"Well," he began, "I've been thinking about your plans. Quite frankly, son, I have some concerns about your being able to find a physician to replace you. This is a small town in a rural area."

While I knew his words were true, I was disappointed that he felt the need to speak them. Bella was already worried; could he not see that he was only exacerbating the situation?

"Carlisle," I warned mildly.

He lifted his hand to stop me from continuing. "Let me finish, please. It's much more likely that a physician would be willing to move to a larger community and practice at the hospital there. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Well, yes," I conceded, still bemused by his train of though.

Carlisle looked up at me, a half smile upon his lips as he seemed to waited for me to add something more. However, I did not know what to say.

Finally he said, "I don't imagine it would be too difficult to fill _my_ position in Eugene."

I blinked at him, comprehension slowly dawning. "You mean you would be willing to leave and come here?"

"I would."

"Carlisle, I can't ask you to do that," I began.

"You aren't asking; I'm offering."

Esme beamed at him; I could see the idea pleased her. She took his hand in hers. They both looked at Bella and me expectantly.

"Really?" I questioned. "You've never lived in a small town before… wouldn't you miss the city?"

"Everything we care about is right here," Esme replied, Carlisle nodding in agreement.

I turned my head to look at Bella, intending to ask for her thoughts. However, her expression was utterly ebullient, telling me all I needed to know.

Suddenly I was before my parents, pulling both of them into my arms. "Then yes…. Oh yes. And thank you."

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><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	66. Chapter 66

**_Note:_**_ I apologize for the delay in posting a new chapter. I had sincerely hoped to be able to write two chapters per week, but with the onset of the school year, my work has become extremely busy. I will make every effort to post a new chapter each week from here on out. I also want to apologize for failing to respond to some of your recent reviews. I truly appreciate each one, but given my limited time of late, I felt it was best to use my spare moments to work on a new chapter. Thank you for your understanding and patience!_

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><p>The knowledge that Carlisle and Esme were moving to Madras did wonders for Bella's recuperation. She was buoyant for the entire morning, happier and more energetic than I had seen her in some time. Aside from the usual minor cough accompanying the final stages of her cold, she appeared fairly well. The pain from her fracture was at a minimum, she claimed, and she told me that she felt very good.<p>

Even so, I did not want her to overexert herself. A few quiet words to Esme assured that my wife would spend much of the day resting in the parlor. This did not preclude extensive conversation, however. Bella and Esme chatted enthusiastically about where my parents might live, considering the various pieces of property currently available in the area.

After our wives were comfortably settled before the fireplace, Carlisle and I moved out to the porch. Sitting in the crisp, autumn sunshine, we discussed the immediate future.

"I'll return to Eugene this afternoon," he told me. "I'll speak with Dr. Barton straight away about resigning."

"What will you tell him?"

"The truth, I think, or something close to it. Yesterday when I cancelled my upcoming shifts, I told him that my daughter-in-law had been injured. I'll simply extend that and tell him that you and Bella need Esme and me here with you."

I nodded. "That really is true."

He smiled. "Now, what do you plan to tell your patients?" He was alluding to the fact that I would need an explanation for his participation in the practice.

"I think we can stick with the truth about the reasons for your move here," I replied. "I've been considering how to justify your taking over much of the patients' care, though." I gave him a mirthless smile as I began to outline my plan. "It's well-known among the townspeople that I was ill before I moved here and had to give up medicine for a time. I think a minor relapse would warrant my cutting back on my work and sharing the practice with you."

"Did you ever specify what type of illness you'd had?"

"No—except to Bella."

He gave a satisfied nod. "That's good. If we let it be known that you're somewhat frail, it gives you a plausible reason to avoid touching patients." He arched an eyebrow sardonically. "We can't risk your contracting any illnesses from them."

I chuckled—the first time I'd done anything other than frown when thinking about my future as a physician. "Oh no, we can't chance that!"

"Actually, your supposed illness could help with other cases, too. I can treat any injuries requiring examination, sutures, or reductions under the pretense that your hands aren't quite steady enough due to lingering weakness."

"That's a good idea, Carlisle." I paused to mull over his suggestions. "You're really rather good at coming up with these things."

Now it was his turn to chuckle. "Well, I've had a lot of practice over the years."

We stepped back inside, interested to hear the results of our wives' discussion. As we entered the parlor, Esme commented, "My, you two seemed to be having an enjoyable conversation."

I darted over to my wife's side to slip my arm around her. Her cheeks were rosy, but she showed no signs of fever. I kissed her crown as Carlisle reiterated our dialogue.

"That's clever," Bella said when he had finished. She looked up at me. "Although I feel a little sad thinking that people may worry about you if they believe you're ill."

Carlisle gave her a small, sympathetic smile; he appreciated her compassion.

"Well," I said, "it's all for the greater good, love. At least this way we'll know that everyone is receiving excellent care." Hoping to lighten the mood, I asked Esme, "Did you figure out where you want to live?"

"Bella mentioned a house a mile or so from here," Esme responded. "She said it's where Angela grew up."

I had passed the place many times. It was rather dilapidated; Angela's family had moved into town while she was still a schoolgirl. But the house was fairly large and was on a nice piece of property with mature fruit trees, overgrown grapevines, and plenty of room for flower and vegetable gardens.

"Angela's told me several times that they'd like to sell it," Bella added. "They could use the money for a new automobile. I know they want one."

"It's a good location," I informed Carlisle. "It's about a mile outside of town, so you'd be close enough to respond to urgent calls but distant enough for some privacy."

"It's near the woods, too," Bella said. "Finding game would be easy."

"It sounds perfect," Carlisle uttered. "Perhaps we can speak with Ben and Angela about it after I return."

"Are you leaving?" Bella asked, clearly disappointed.

"Only for a day or two, dear," he assured her. "I need to make some arrangements in Eugene… and there are a few items I'm sure Esme would like to have here for the short-term."

Bella's expression changed again; she was concerned about something. "Oh… of course, you'll be moving, and you'll have to pack up your home…"

Esme reached for Bella's hand. "Don't worry, honey. It won't take us long, and it will be joyful work. Each box we pack means we're closer to being here with the two of you."

"I feel like you're giving up a great deal for us," Bella said softly, squeezing Esme's hand.

"No, sweetheart," Carlisle corrected gently, "we're _gaining_ a great deal. We're going to have everything we could ever want."

This seemed to allay Bella's concerns. "This means so much to us," she said, addressing both of my parents. "Knowing that you'll be here, that we'll get to see you all the time, and that Edward can continue working…" She swallowed thickly, swiping at her eyes.

"It is a privilege for us," Carlisle responded. "To share in your lives and the life of your child means more to us than words can express."

This earned a poignant sob from Bella, and Esme's face showed that she would be crying, too, if she were able. Our hearts and home were filled with joy and anticipation for the future.

* * *

><p>Carlisle left just after noon. He telephoned in the evening to tell us that his resignation had been accepted with some regret but with the staff's best wishes for his family. He had already begun packing and planned to bring as much as he could fit in his automobile when he returned in the morning. His and Esme's clothing and other personal items would be the priority now; other items could be packed and sent by wagon at a later date. Eventually he would contact a solicitor about selling the house.<p>

Esme was a wonderful help to both Bella and me. She prepared Bella's meals with skill and efficiency, did the various household chores, flitted about the garden to do bits of trimming and pruning, and, most importantly, made my wife feel loved. I knew that Bella never questioned my affection for her, but I could see that having a caring mother added a new facet of happiness to her life.

Bella's wrist needed to remain elevated in the sling. This helped with the pain as well as the swelling. However, it meant that there were many small tasks she could not complete by herself.

I would gladly do anything for Bella, and in the past I had helped her with her personal needs many times. While she still requested my assistance for her most private activities, she happily accepted Esme's aid in dressing and grooming. Indeed, the expression I saw on my wife's face while my mother brushed and braided her hair was one that touched me deeply. It warmed my stone heart to know that Bella could finally receive some maternal attention. She deserved it.

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><p>Bella slept well that night. I lay beside her, gently holding her wrist to keep it in the ideal position for healing while allowing her to remain as comfortable as possible. Esme spent several hours hunting, keeping to the woods but venturing toward Angela's old house to catch a glimpse of the place. When she returned, she told me that it seemed ideal.<p>

Bella appeared refreshed the next morning. I was pleased that her cough was no worse, and her wrist was only slightly tender. She ate breakfast heartily, enjoying Esme's fine cooking. Aside from her domestic skills, I was glad for my mother's presence, as I needed to go to my office for at least an hour or so. I had a patient scheduled for 10:00, but fortunately it was only a consultation. I did not anticipate any hands-on treatment.

We expected Carlisle to return before noon, and he planned to meet me in town. We would go to the Webers' store together to inquire about their property. After only brief consideration, I decided this would also be a good opportunity to set the stage for the changes I would soon be making in my practice.

I kissed my beautiful wife good-bye, leaving her in Esme's capable hands. The consultation went smoothly, and no other patients appeared before Carlisle cheerfully stepped through my door at 11:40.

I greeted him warmly. He had stopped at the house briefly to see Esme and Bella and leave the boxes he had brought from Eugene. He said that Bella appeared well.

"Esme's presence seems the ideal tonic," I replied with a smile.

He nodded. "I've never seen either of them quite so content. They're really very good for each other. Esme is so nurturing, and she is happiest when she can care for someone else."

"She and Bella have that in common." My gaze wandered to the examination room as I recalled all the times she had assisted me, knowing how much it meant to her to support me and help out patients.

Carlisle gave my shoulder an understanding squeeze.

I took a breath then said, "I think we should lay the foundation for your joining the practice today." I explained briefly what I had in mind.

"That's a fine plan, Edward," he agreed. "No time like the present, I suppose."

We donned our coats and hats and walked out the door. Ben was inside the store, and I could hear Angela in the house, undoubtedly preparing lunch. Ben was pleased to see us, asking immediately how Bella was doing. Angela had telephoned twice, but this was no substitute for a personal report.

"She's fine," I replied, rubbing a hand over my face as if feeling fatigued.

"That's good," Ben said. "Damned shame about that thing with the car."

I nodded wearily, and Carlisle rested his hand against my back. I knew he had arranged his features into a concerned expression.

"What brings you to town, Dr. Cullen?" Ben inquired amiably, extending his hand.

They exchanged a handshake as Carlisle said, "Esme and I have decided to move to Madras. You have such a wonderful little community here. We've fallen in love with it. And knowing our grandchild will soon be a part of it… well, we just couldn't stay away." He paused significantly, rubbing at my shoulder. "We want to help out as much as possible."

Ben's expression registered mild concern as he watched us. I made sure that my posture was a bit stiff, as if I were in some discomfort. Clearing my throat, I asked, "Are you still considering selling the house outside of town?"

"Esme and I find the property ideal for our needs," Carlisle clarified. "As a matter of fact, she's completely enamored with it—I think it's all those fruit trees." He smiled.

Ben appeared rather surprised, but he was pleased. "We've been wanting to sell the place for awhile now. We plan to stay in town, and we could use the money to purchase a motorcar and a bigger place here."

"Wonderful!" Carlisle uttered.

"Let's go into the house to see Ange," Ben said, "just to run it by her, but I'm sure she'll be happy about this."

We followed him through the door that led to their living quarters. Angela appeared in the hallway.

"Oh, Edward!" she said, "and Dr. Cullen. How nice to see you! How's Bella feeling?"

"Better," I answered. "Thank you again for helping her."

"Of course."

"Ange," Ben said, "I have some good news. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen are interested in the house."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

Carlisle smiled. "Yes. It's a wonderful piece of property, and Esme is quite taken with the orchard and garden."

"You're moving here?" Angela asked.

He nodded. "We missed our children too much, and we want to be able to help them."

Again his hand found my back, and I pretended to lean into him almost subconsciously. I rubbed at my brow as though I had a headache.

Angela watched me, her expression becoming worried. "Are you all right, Edward?"

I cleared my throat again. "I'm feeling a little…" My legs faltered slightly, and Carlisle tightened his grip around me.

"He needs to sit down," Carlisle said quite seriously.

"Of course," Angela replied quickly, motioning toward the little parlor.

Carlisle led me to the settee, easing me down then kneeling before me. He pressed his hand over my cheek then lifted my wrist as if he were feeling my pulse.

"Edward, how long have you been feeling like this?" he asked softly.

I kept my gaze lowered and murmured, "It started coming on yesterday evening, but…"

"You should have said something," he reprimanded gently.

"Bella was my only concern," I muttered, careful to speak loudly enough for Ben and Angela's human ears.

"Still," Carlisle said, resting a hand against my neck, "you know you can't push yourself, son." Dropping his voice, he added significantly, "You know what happened last time…"

I sighed and allowed my shoulders to slump. "I'm afraid it's coming back," I said miserably.

He stood, placing a pillow behind me and urging me to lean back. "Just rest for a few minutes," he advised gently. "I'll get you some water."

Angela gave a nod of understanding and motioned me toward the kitchen. Ben perched on the arm of a chair, whispered, "I'll stay with him."

Closing my eyes, I listened to the quiet conversation in the kitchen.

"Is Edward ill?" Angela asked, her tone full of worry.

Carlisle exhaled purposefully, and I could hear the slight rustle as he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm afraid so… I should have realized it sooner, but we were all so preoccupied with Bella, and then I had to return to Eugene yesterday to attend to some business. The moment I saw him today, I knew something was wrong…"

"Oh dear. What is it?" Her voice was compassionate and anxious; she was not prying.

"Edward has a blood disorder," Carlisle explained.

I pressed my lips together to keep my mouth in a tight line. My momentary mirth passed when I thought about the worry my condition would cause our friends. But it was unavoidable if I wished to continue to help the community.

Carlisle carried on, "It's a chronic condition. It's somewhat cyclical, I'm afraid. He had a serious episode in St. Paul, and he moved here to recuperate. He found that with rest he made a fairly good recovery—"

"Oh dear," Angela interjected softly, her voice pained, "he started working again when he delivered Rosemary—"

"Oh no, sweetheart," Carlisle soothed immediately, "that didn't affect his illness at all. As a matter of fact, he began flourishing afterwards. He loves his work, and he was hoping he'd be able to continue on for years. But the nature of his condition is such that it will come and go periodically."

"But he'll recover?" she asked hopefully.

"He's going to feel weak for some time, but we've caught it early this time, so with proper rest the worst of it should pass within a week or so."

We had agreed that I should not be out of commission for too long. I wanted to introduce Carlisle to my current patients, particularly those who might feel reticent about accepting a new doctor. If I could be present for the consultations and examinations, it would ease the minds of people like Mrs. Withers and Mrs. Joseph.

"What can Ben and I do?" Angela asked.

"Esme and I will remain with them until Edward is feeling stronger," Carlisle responded. I could hear the gratitude in his tone as he added, "But thank you, Angela. You and Ben are very good friends. Esme and I are both grateful that you are part of our children's lives."

They returned with a glass of water for me. I pretended to take a few sips as Carlisle sat beside me, a comforting hand upon the back of my neck.

"How are you doing, son?" he asked solicitously.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry," I said to Angela and Ben.

Angela took my hand, frowning momentarily at the coolness of my skin, notable to her now that she accepted my illness. "There's nothing to apologize for," she said kindly. "We're just sorry you're feeling unwell. Please let us know if there is anything we can do to help."

"Thank you," I murmured morosely. "I feel like I'm letting everyone down."

"You can't help getting sick," Ben said.

"No," Carlisle agreed. "And you've got all of us to help. Esme will look after you and Bella, and I'll be certain that your patients are well cared for. You've nothing to worry about."

"That's right, Edward," Angela agreed tenderly. "You just focus on getting better."

Ben offered to drive my automobile to the store so that I would not have to walk back to my office. I agreed, and he hurried off. Rosemary gave a little cry from the bedroom, and Angela excused herself to attend to the baby.

I gave Carlisle a nod of approval. He had handled the situation perfectly. When Ben returned, Carlisle helped me to stand, keeping his arm around my shoulder.

After thanking Angela and Ben again, I finished weakly, "Could you let people know that Carlisle will be helping out for a little while? I should be able to return to work soon…"

"Not until you're feeling much better," Angela chided affectionately.

"That's right, son," Carlisle agreed. "I can certainly manage until you're on your feet again."

With those words, we left. I felt relieved when we drove out of town. I disliked our ruse, particularly the effect it had upon our friends. But it was a necessary deception, and in the end I knew it would benefit everyone.

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><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	67. Chapter 67

**_Note:_** _ I apologize sincerely for the delay in posting this chapter. I had a major computer issue last week then had to go out of town for the weekend. The best laid plans... Thank you for your patience and understanding._

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><p>Bella was resting when Carlisle and I returned, but when she woke from her nap I reiterated the events at the Webers' home. She was not happy that our friends were now worried about me, but she understood the necessity of our actions.<p>

When I had finished speaking, I offered her a mollifying smile. "It's not all bad," I said. "Since everyone will believe I'm ill, I get to spend the next week here with you." I kissed her lips softly.

She lifted her uninjured hand to caress my cheek. "I suppose I can't complain about that." Her mouth twitched as she tried to suppress a grin.

"Carlisle will go to my office for a few hours each day for anyone needing immediate care," I continued, "and Esme will have to remain here with us all the time, in case anyone drops by."

In this small community, it was likely that well-meaning neighbors would bring food if they believed I was ill.

"I love having her here," Bella replied. "Carlisle as well."

I smiled. "I do, too. But it's rather ironic. I wanted Esme to come so that you wouldn't need to be alone while I was working… and now I'm going to be here with you around the clock."

"Do you mind?" she asked, her gaze very earnest.

"Oh darling, there's nothing I love more than being with you."

"But it means you won't be working for a little while."

"As long as I know my patients are in good hands, I don't mind at all."

This reminded me that there was something I wished to mention to Bella, but Esme appeared with the tea tray. I would bring up the matter later; there was no rush. As a matter of fact, nearly three months remained until it would become an issue. Still, some preliminary discussion and planning seemed a wise idea…

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><p>Carlisle and I spent some time that afternoon and evening discussing my current patients. Our flawless memories meant that I could share every pertinent detail about each case, which he would remember perfectly. Still, he wrote notes in his flowing script. It was a necessary pretext and one he had become accustomed to over the years.<p>

Bella and Esme visited in the parlor while he and I spoke in the kitchen. My wife was comfortably sitting upon the sofa, a warm fire glowing in the hearth. When I paused so that Carlisle could write, I could hear the feminine voices. Esme had a sketch pad and was showing Bella some ideas for the new house. The rapid scritch of the pencil as it moved over the paper told me that my mother had several images in mind.

Carlisle and I had just finished reviewing Miss Essie's treatment and condition when I heard Bella's charming laugh. A rustle of fabric accompanied this, and I knew that my wife was shifting her position slightly.

"Oh Bella," Esme said softly, "what's the matter with your feet?"

I ceased speaking to listen intently as I began to stand.

"They're a little swollen," Bella replied, but her tone seemed hesitant.

I hurried to the parlor, Carlisle right behind me. Esme was crouched before Bella, who held her skirt up over her ankles. Both women were staring at her sock-clad feet. Through the fabric, I could see the swelling that distorted her dainty ankles and feet.

"Sweetheart," I said, kneeling before her as Esme moved to Carlisle's side, "let me see."

I removed her socks carefully to expose her pale skin to my eyes. The edema was not serious, but it was noticeable. She had not suffered this particular malady to any significant degree as yet. I ran my fingers over her left ankle and foot.

I glanced up at Carlisle, silently requesting his assessment. He smiled reassuringly at Bella then gently felt over each ankle and foot.

"She's never had this degree of edema before," I told him.

He nodded, his expression remaining pleasant. "It's to be expected at this stage," he said. "Why don't you put your feet in Edward's lap, dear," he suggested.

I sat on the sofa and lifted her legs gently to rest her ankles over my thighs. I knew the coolness of my skin would ease some of the swelling, so I wrapped my hands lightly around both feet. I moved my fingers to feel the pulse in her posterior tibial arteries.

Esme tucked a pillow behind Bella's back, while Carlisle curled his fingers around her arm to restrict the blood flow then released them slowly. He and I both listened as the blood began to flow again. He gave me a small smile as we confirmed that her blood pressure was normal. Edema in the extremities could be a symptom of toxemia, a condition which resulted in hypertension.

Bella had seen me perform this small test several times. She looked up at my father and asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No," he replied calmly, "everything seems fine."

Her expression showed that she wanted further details, but he was always very respectful of my role as both Bella's husband and physician, so he deferred to me for additional explanation, giving me a slight nod. Then he kissed her crown and turned toward Esme.

"It's a lovely night for a stroll," he said, slipping his arm through hers. "Why don't we walk over to Angela's old house. I'm eager to see your plans next to the actual structure."

Esme still appeared concerned about Bella, but she took her sketchbook and allowed Carlisle to escort her from the room. As they left the house, I heard him assure her that Bella was well.

I massaged my wife's feet very lightly, saying, "I think the swelling may have been a result of your remaining still for some time. Let's be sure your feet are up on a stool whenever you sit for more than a few minutes."

"All right," she agreed, still a bit wary. "Are you certain that's all it is?"

"Yes, love. Edema in the extremities is very common during the final months of pregnancy. Your body produces more blood and fluids needed for the baby's development. These are what cause the swelling."

"But it can be a sign of something more serious, right? I remember reading about that… what is it called?"

"Toxemia," I replied. "But I don't see any indications of that, nor does Carlisle."

A smile finally graced her beautiful lips. "I suppose I'm fortunate to have two excellent physicians at my beck and call."

I smiled in return, my thoughts returning to the topic I wished to broach. I rubbed softly at her ankles and feet for a few minutes as Bella wriggled against the pillow trying to get comfortable. She stretched out her uninjured arm and rolled her shoulders.

"Are you sore?" I asked.

"Just a little stiff. I haven't taken a walk since I got hurt; I think moving around more is good for me."

"Perhaps tomorrow you and Esme can go for a short stroll."

"I'd like that." She ran her hand over her hair, her nose wrinkling adorably. "When can I have a bath?"

I had helped her to bathe with a washcloth twice since her injury, but I knew that was no substitute for a proper bath.

"How does half an hour from now sound?"

She grinned. "Wonderful!"

We sat for a few more minutes, then I propped her feet up on additional pillows and went upstairs to prepare the bathtub for her. I filled it with steaming water and set out our softest towels and her favorite silk dressing gown. Then I returned to the parlor to retrieve my lovely wife.

We walked up to our bedroom, and I helped her to remove her clothing. She smiled when I quickly shed my clothes, too. I had no intention of letting her bathe alone. Standing in the tub, I settled her in the water with her injured arm resting upon a folded towel on the side of the bath. Then I slid down to sit behind her. She settled against my chest immediately.

I reached for the soap and a washcloth, languidly running the sudsy flannel over her neck, shoulders, and back, pressing a little harder whenever I sensed a tight muscle. Then I bathed her arms and chest, moving the cloth very gently over her full, sensitive breasts. I leaned forward to reach her legs and feet, then I returned to her belly.

I set the washcloth aside, using my hands instead. I needed to feel her soft skin, to caress her roundness beneath which lay our child. I ran my fingertips over her entire abdomen then flattened my hands to cup the precious swell. My lips found her neck, kissing the silken, fragrant flesh reverently. Her fingers moved through my hair then across my cheek before her hand came to rest above mine.

Neither of us spoke for a long time. Our thoughts were filled with the future, with dreams of our baby. Finally the water began to grow uncomfortably cool for Bella. Reluctantly, I pulled myself from the tub then added more hot water so that I could wash her hair.

When I had finished, I helped her from the tub, wrapping her in two towels as she held out her arm to keep the cast dry. While I hated her being injured, I enjoyed helping her, relishing in each stroke of the towel as I dried her body. I blotted the water from her hair then slipped the dressing gown over her arms and shoulders. I did not tie the sash; the sight of her belly was too beautiful to cover. I donned my own robe quickly, knowing that the chill of my skin could make her shiver.

Bella sat at the vanity while I combed out her hair. It was even thicker and glossier than it had been some months ago. She had never been—nor could she ever be—more glorious to me. I loved her beyond words. "'To the depth and breadth and height soul can reach,'" I murmured.

"Elizabeth Barrett Browning," she said softly. "You know that's one of my favorites."

"Mmm, mine too."

She turned to face me, and I knelt before her, kissing her gently. Then I bent my head to press my lips over her abdomen, affection surging anew within me.

"I can't wait to meet her," Bella said dreamily.

"Nor can I," I replied. The moment was ideal to discuss the near future. I rested my hands over her belly again. "Darling, I want Carlisle here to help with the birth."

She blinked in surprise. "Oh…"

"You know his professional skills and knowledge are unparalleled," I said. She had acknowledged this only an hour ago. "He's delivered thousands of babies."

She nodded, her brow creased. "I know. But I… I suppose I imagined that it would just be the two of us."

"I want to ensure your safety and the baby's. That is the most critical thing to me."

"Are you afraid something will go wrong? Something like what happened to Angela?"

"I'm sure everything will go fine, just as it should. But once the baby is born, I may need _him_ to examine her…" I had not voiced this concern to her or to him, but I was worried that I would feel the infant's discomfort and be affected by it.

Bella's gaze moved over my face, and then comprehension washed over her. Her eyes grew bright with tears as she nodded in understanding. "If you feel you may need him, then of course he should be here."

"Thank you, love." I embraced her tenderly, holding her for a long time.

When we finally drew apart, her expression remained tight. She was still concerned.

"What is it, sweetheart?" I asked.

Her eyes met mine. "Edward, if something should go wrong—"

"It won't, especially with Carlisle here," I assured her.

She lifted her hand to touch my lips. "But if it does, I want you to promise me something."

"Bella," I began to protest.

She shook her head and pressed her fingers more firmly over my mouth. "I want to know our child. I want to watch you be her father. I want to see her learn and grow and become a woman someday. Even if I have to miss some of her life—a year or more—I want the chance be her mother. Promise me that if anything goes wrong, if there's any possibility that I won't survive her birth, you'll change me."

"Bella, no, don't think like that," I pleaded.

"I have to. You've been thinking about the birth, making plans to ensure that everything goes as well as possible knowing there's a chance that something could go wrong. Well, I've been thinking and planning, too. This is what I want, Edward. Please, tell me that you'll honor my wishes."

I swallowed. Did she have any idea what she was asking of me?

She lowered her hand, her gaze still steady. "If you can't promise me this, I'll ask Carlisle to do it."

Would he agree? I did not know.

"But Edward," she continued softly, "I want it to be you. Even if it's not for years, I still want it to be you."

We had not discussed this topic since our marriage. A part of me had hoped that she had simply forgotten or changed her mind. But now I realized that she had never stopped thinking about it. The final line of Browning's sonnet ran through my mind: _And, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. _

The thought was unbearable. I could not live without her. But could I be the instrument of her immortality? Could I take her humanity—her warmth, her blush, her breath, her heart—from her? I lowered my head to my hands, my mouth unable to form the words.

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><p><em>To be continued...<em>

_I have good news and slightly bad news. The good news is that I've been asked to write an outtake from this story for a very worthwhile cause, Fandom for Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. I plan to write a missing scene, and I would love to hear your thoughts on this. I welcome suggestions; was there a scene you wish I'd written? My story, and all the others, will be available as part of a fundraising event. If you'd like more information about supporting this cause, please let me know and I will provide you with further information. The slightly bad news is that I need to get the outtake finished within the next few weeks, so there may be some delay in posting a new chapter here. But I promise you won't have to wait too long. My goal is to have a chapter ready by the end of next week at the very latest. Thank you so much for your patience!_


	68. Chapter 68

_**Note:**_ I wish to send a heart-felt thank you to whomever nominated this story for The Emerging Swan awards. I am touched deeply by the gesture.

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><p>Bella's words echoed through my mind: "<em>Promise me that if anything goes wrong, if there's any possibility that I won't survive her birth, you'll change me<em>."

She sat at the vanity, one hand upon my cheek as I remained frozen on my knees before her. Her expression was somber, but her fingers moved in little comforting strokes over my cold skin.

"Edward," she whispered, "please."

I swallowed then forced myself to move, shifting slightly and taking her hand in mine. I could feel the blood pulsing through her veins, giving her body warmth, vibrancy, _life_. Yet if given the choice between losing her to death and keeping her in a preternatural state that could not truly be considered alive, I would eschew the former.

After a slow inhalation, I said softly, "Everything will be fine, love. Nothing will go wrong. But if at any point in the future your life is..**.**" I had to pause; my throat grew tight. Finally I continued, "If your life is threatened, if I believe the danger is grave, I… I won't let you go. I can't."

She smiled thinly. "Thank you."

I nodded then stood. I truly believed that the delivery would be uncomplicated. And even if difficulties arose, Bella would be in very best hands possible. I took some comfort in the knowledge that there was little chance I would have to honor my promise.

But some day the issue would arise again. Even with my vigilant eye, she could still fall ill or become injured. And even if she led a healthy life, how long would she wish to remain human? At some point, the difference in our physical ages would start to become apparent. How many more years of aging was she willing to give me?

I hoped that once the baby was born, Bella would not be able to stand the idea of being away from our child for any extended period of time. She understood that if she were changed she could not be near humans for at least a year. Could her maternal bond keep her human until our child was grown and independent? That might give me seventeen or eighteen years with her…

"Edward." Bella's gentle voice was beckoning me from my ruminations.

I blinked at her. She had gotten to her feet. Her hand was resting over her belly, and a soft smile graced her lips.

"She's moving," she told me, glancing down at her hand. "Feel."

Without thinking, I placed my hands over her abdomen. The baby was indeed active; I could imagine the tiny limbs stretching and curling back. My fingers followed the movements as my skin sensed the vibrations within my wife's womb.

"No matter what happens," she said, "we'll all be together." She snuggled against me, and I rested my chin over her head.

I closed my eyes and focused only upon the sensations beneath my hand, pushing the morose thoughts from my mind.

* * *

><p>The next day was pleasant. Bella did not mention our conversation again, and I tried not to dwell upon it. Instead, I tried to enjoy spending the morning and afternoon with my wife.<p>

Carlisle went to the office in the morning, while Esme prepared Bella's breakfast then helped me to create an environment appropriate for an invalid. I felt certain that at least a few of our friends would stop by to see if they could provide any assistance to me. I wanted to be certain that the house contained the usual signs accompanying an illness.

We made sure that the curtains were closed to keep the house dark and restful. I set out several medicine bottles and spoons, two vials and a syringe, and Bella's used tea things in clear view on the dining room table to make it appear that these items were in use. Esme left soup simmering on the stove to fill the house with the aroma of fortifying broth.

I donned pyjamas and a dressing gown and allowed Esme to muss my hair, resisting the temptation to run my hands over it to tame the wild strands. I would remain inside the house throughout the day and retreat to the bedroom if anyone stopped by.

Just after noon we heard hoofbeats. Bella peeked through the curtains to report that Mrs. McMahon and Pearl were approaching the house in the family's wagon. I could smell food—some sort of meat—as they neared.

"Off to bed with you," Bella said, waggling both a finger and an eyebrow at me.

I hurried upstairs, leaving the bedroom door open, then slid between the sheets. I pulled the quilt over my chest and lay back against the pillows, listening with interest to the events downstairs.

Bella waited for the soft knock before opening the door.

"Hello Jane," I heard my wife say quietly, "and Pearl."

"Mrs. Cullen," Mrs. McMahon said, her voice low, "Mr. Weber told me that your husband is ill when I stopped by the store this morning. I wanted to bring some stew… it's chicken. Always makes my children feel better when they're poorly."

"Thank you," Bella said sincerely. I knew she appreciated the kind gesture. "Please come in."

"Oh, we don't want to bother Dr. Cullen," Mrs. McMahon responded.

"It's all right," Bella said, "he's resting."

I heard footsteps in the small entry hall, and I knew that Bella had led our guests past the staircase, where they would see the open door and catch a glimpse of me amid the bedclothes. I made certain that my eyes were closed.

Mrs. McMahon murmured a few words of sympathy and asked if there was anything she could do. She commented on Bella's broken wrist, offering to send her husband to take care of Callie and Stanley each morning.

Bella expressed her gratitude for the offer but assured the compassionate woman that my parents would attend to the animals. Then she called softly for Esme, who had remained in the kitchen.

"Jane, this is Esme, Edward's mother," Bella said.

The women exchanged a few words of greeting, then Bella explained that Carlisle and Esme were moving to Madras permanently and that Carlisle would be working with me. She added that he was watching the office during my convalescence, finishing with a few kind words about his skills. We hoped that the community grapevine would inform our neighbors that a trusted physician was currently available should they need him.

The gentle conversation continued for several minutes before I became aware of another sound. Beneath the hushed words, I heard a rapid heartbeat, ragged breaths, and a few little sobs.

"Oh Pearl," Bella said, "what's the matter?"

The child sniffled. "Is Dr. Cullen very sick?" she asked tremulously.

"No, honey," Bella replied, her voice thick with emotion, "he just needs to rest for a while. He'll be all right."

"I'm sorry," Mrs. McMahon murmured. "We'll be going now."

"Thank you for coming, and for the stew," Bella said. "It smells wonderful, and I know Edward will enjoy it."

"You be sure to let us know if there's anything we can do for you," our kind neighbor said.

Bella thanked them again and walked them to the door. I heard a light swish of fabric and knew that she was embracing Mrs. McMahon and then Pearl. Then Bella spoke again, promising Pearl that I would be fine.

I waited until I heard the horse's hooves before I came downstairs. Esme had a comforting arm around Bella, who appeared somewhat distressed. I pulled my wife into my embrace and kissed her brow.

"Poor little Pearl," she said. "She was so upset and worried about you."

"I know," I replied rather guiltily. "But sweetheart, it can't be helped. It's a necessary deception."

She nodded in understanding. "I just wish we didn't have to cause others to feel anxious."

"I'll be certain Carlisle gets the word out that I'm in no danger," I responded.

This seemed to ease some of Bella's concern. But how would she feel when deceit became a frequent part of her existence? Did she realize that prevarication and various ruses would be required after she was changed? Honesty was ingrained in her beautiful character; how would she feel when forced to lie? How great a toll would the change take on her?

My gaze moved to Esme, and I remembered the night Carlisle had brought her broken body home. He had not known then that her spirit was crushed, too. However, his gentle care, deep affection, and burgeoning love helped her to heal emotionally. With Bella, it would be the opposite. I would ensure her happiness and if—when—she entered the unnatural realm inhabited by my parents and me, it would be to keep her with us as wife, daughter, and mother. But how would she react?

Perhaps part of my hesitancy and a portion of my fear lay in this question. Would I lose the warmth, compassion, and gentle light that defined my precious Bella? Once again I hoped with all my heart that I would not need to explore this eventuality for a very long time.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	69. Chapter 69

I managed to push my maudlin thoughts aside, and the remainder of the day passed pleasantly. When Bella lay down for a nap in the afternoon, I settled beside her in case we had any more visitors while she was sleeping. I did not wish to rouse her by climbing into bed.

She slept with her head upon my chest, hair fanned out across the pillow. I inhaled the fragrance over and over again as my fingers traced very lightly over her cheeks. When I heard another wagon approach, I covered her ears so that she would not be awakened by the noise.

I heard a light knock upon the front door then Esme's kind voice as she admitted the Reverend and Mrs. Joseph. They inquired about my health immediately, both clearly concerned.

Esme assured them that I would recover soon and simply needed some rest.

"He's such a kind young man," the Reverend said. "Always ready to help out, to see patients at any time…"

"We had no idea that he was ill," Mrs. Joseph added. "I feel terribly for bothering him all those times…"

"Edward is very devoted to his patients," Esme replied gently. "He loves helping every single one. His father is like that, too." I could hear the genuine smile in her voice. "And please don't feel that you overtaxed him. His bouts come on rather suddenly; he's fine until he has an attack. They aren't caused by overexertion; they just happen periodically."

"Poor man," Mrs. Joseph said.

"Well," said Esme, "at least he won't need to worry about his patients. He and his father will be working together now, sharing the practice, so one of them will be available at all times."

"Your husband seems like a fine man," the Reverend said. I knew they had spoken before the wedding, recalling that the minister had been impressed to learn that Carlisle's father had been a man of the cloth and had imparted a healthy sense of Christian charity—and endless quotable Scripture—in his son.

"Thank you," Esme replied humbly.

"We'll keep Dr. Cullen in our prayers," Reverend Joseph said. "Mrs. Cullen, too. Ben told me she broke her hand?"

"Yes, poor dear," Esme confirmed with sympathy. "She's resting now, but I'll tell her that you're thinking of her. I know she'll be grateful."

"Is she all right?" the Reverend's wife asked, and I knew she was worried about the baby, too.

"She's fine," Esme assured the couple, understanding Mrs. Joseph's concern. "Only her wrist was injured."

"Thank the Lord," Reverend Joseph said, then with a sigh added, "the trials of Job."

Mrs. Joseph had brought some sort of baked good; I hope Bella would enjoy it. She gave it to Esme, who thanked her.

"Now you tell Dr. Cullen not to hesitate for one second to call on us if he or Mrs. Cullen need anything," Mrs. Joseph said.

"Thank you," Esme replied. "And if you should need anything, my husband is ready to help at any time."

I could hear handshakes being exchanged, then Esme walked the couple to the door. Her light, quick footsteps ascended the stairs, then she appeared in the bedroom doorway, holding up a basket.

Speaking too softly for Bella to hear, she said, "She brought a pie."

I smiled. "Bella will like that."

Esme's expression was one of mild wonder.

"What is it?" I prompted gently.

"Now I truly understand why you like living here so much. Everyone is so kind, so caring."

"They are," I agreed. "Bella brings that out in people."

Smiling fondly, Esme said, "Yes, she does. But Edward, they adore you, too."

"I never imagined a life like this," I admitted.

"Nor did I."

"I think you're going to enjoy Madras," I said with a small grin.

She laughed softly. "I feel certain of it."

* * *

><p>Carlisle returned just after four o'clock. I was surprised to see him enter the house with several items in his arms. Curious, I darted over to him to ask what he had brought.<p>

With a smile, he replied, "A few get-well offerings from your patients."

We walked to the kitchen, and he set the things on the table. I inspected the parcels to find a ham, two loaves of bread, a pot of soup, roast chicken and potatoes, and a basket of cookies. Angela had sent the chicken; she had telephoned him at the office and asked him to stop by the store on his way home.

"She's very concerned about you," he told me, his expression sobering slightly.

I nodded. "Did you emphasize that I'm not in danger and will recover soon?"

"I did, but people are still worried."

"You'll have to give positive reports every day."

"I will."

Bella and Esme had gone for a short walk. I felt sorry that I could not accompany my wife on her stroll, but I knew she was in good hands with my mother. Their soft voices alerted us that they were approaching the house. They entered through the back door, joining us in the kitchen.

Carlisle kissed Esme lightly then turned to Bella to take her hand.

"How are you feeling, dear?" he asked. His gaze flicked downward for a moment, and I knew he was checking for her fingers for edema.

"Pretty good," she replied. "It was nice to get out and stretch my legs." Noticing the items on the table, she said, "Goodness, what's all this?"

"Just a few things our neighbors wanted to share," I explained.

Her pretty brow furrowed. "They shouldn't have… especially when some of them barely have enough for their own families."

"We'll be sure to reciprocate whenever it's needed," I promised her.

My words easing her worry somewhat, she asked Carlisle, "Who did you see today?"

"Everyone who dropped by came as a friend, not as a patient," he replied warmly. "I met Miss Essie and Mrs. Withers' daughter-in-law; they brought the cookies and the bread. And Mrs. Nielsen sent the ham."

Bella's brows drew together again. "How is Mrs. Withers doing? We were supposed to see her this week."

Carlisle replied, "Her daughter-in-law said she's about the same, but I encouraged her to send for me at any time. I'll check in on her tomorrow."

"Yes, please," Bella said.

I had given Carlisle an update on Mrs. Withers' condition when we discussed my current patients. He knew that she was deteriorating and did not have many weeks left. I planned to see her as soon as it was feasible. While I trusted Carlisle's skills unfailingly, I needed to visit the wonderful woman who had become a friend.

"How did Miss Essie look?" I inquired.

"Her color was good," he replied, "and her scent was fine."

I nodded, glad for this bit of news. After one day of isolation, I already felt eager to return to my practice. While I knew that Carlisle would be sharing much of the work with me and treating many of the patients himself, at least I would be involved and would be able to see how each individual was faring.

"What would you like for supper this evening?" Esme asked Bella, gesturing toward the ample selection upon the table.

Bella's stomach rumbled in anticipation, and I suppressed a smile. Even if her mind worried about the families who had supplied the food, her body was quite willing to accept it. I placed my hand at her back, rubbing gently as she surveyed the fare.

"Maybe the chicken stew from Janie," she decided. "And definitely some pie."

"I'll heat the stew for you," I offered. "Why don't you start with some pie now?"

Esme said cheerfully, "That's one of the best things about carrying a child. You can eat whatever you like, whenever you like." She had already placed a slice of pie upon a plate.

Bella laughed lightly. She was accustomed to my family's lightning-fast movements by now, often appearing amused by them. We all sat at the table while she savored the pie then a bowl of chicken stew.

"I'm sorry you can't enjoy this," she said to me with a little grin as she had the last bite of potato. "It really is delicious."

"I'm sure it is," I replied.

"Speaking of which," Carlisle said, "perhaps you and I should step out for a short while tonight?"

He knew I had not hunted in some time. He and Esme had gone out the previous night; it was important for her to remain well-fed, given her proximity to humans—one in particular. We all knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Esme would never harm Bella, but none of us liked to see her uncomfortable.

"You should go, Edward," Bella urged. "You've been cooped up inside all day, and I'm sure the fresh air will do you good."

Esme smiled at me encouragingly. "I'll be right here in case she needs anything."

I felt the matter had been settled for me so did not protest. The four of us spent a pleasant evening playing whist, then I accompanied Bella to our room to help her prepare for bed. Despite her afternoon nap, I could see that she was very tired. Her body was still recovering from the wrist injury.

I lay beside her, gently stroking her cheek and brow until she fell asleep. Then, hesitant to leave her side, I waited another half hour. I would not be gone for long, and I felt confident that Esme would be attentive to my wife's state, but it was still difficult to pull myself away. I needed to relish each breath, each beat of Bella's heart, while I still could.

Finally I kissed her temple then silently rose from the bed. Carlisle and Esme were in the kitchen. She had tidied up, leaving the entire room spotless.

"Thank you," I said, truly appreciative of her help.

"Oh my, it's nothing," she replied, but her smile told me she was grateful for my words.

"Are you ready to go?" Carlisle asked me.

"Yes."

Esme assured me once again that she would remain vigilant and would assist Bella if she required anything at all. Carlisle and I stepped out into the cool, dark night. He and I had not hunted together in a long time, and for several minutes we simply ran, relishing the crisp air and the many scents of the woods.

When I was sated, we began to walk back to the house. We had not spoken much as we ran and drank, but now our conversation flowed easily if a bit superficially. He mentioned again how impressed he was with the town's generosity.

"Who brought the pie?" he asked.

"The Reverend and Mrs. Joseph," I replied. "They stopped by earlier, after Mrs. McMahon and Pearl."

"Mrs. Joseph must be feeling fairly well."

"She is. However, I want to keep a close eye on her. I'm glad you'll be here to assist with her delivery."

He gave a nod of acknowledgment. "Of course. That's not what's been troubling you, is it?"

His perspicuity should not have surprised me, but it caught me slightly off-guard. "What do you mean?"

"Since last night I've felt that something was weighing upon you, something rather significant."

I understood then that he had accompanied me on the hunt for the express purpose of speaking candidly with me in the privacy of the woods.

I ran a hand through my hair. "I want you to be present during Bella's delivery, too."

He blinked at me. "Oh… yes, Edward. I would be honored to assist in any way that I can."

"I'm not sure how it will feel to touch the baby," I began to explain. "If it's in any distress, I may not be able to treat it to the best of my ability."

He nodded in understanding. "I'll do whatever you need to help." His tone told me that he had already considered the difficulty I might have when I held my own child.

But he did not comprehend the entire situation. I sighed and leaned against a nearby tree. "There's something else…"

Concerned, he placed a hand upon my shoulder. "What is it, son?"

"Bella has requested something of me, something I… I don't know if I can do."

The compassionate sadness in his eyes showed that he suspected the nature of her request. However, he waited for me to say the words.

I drew a slow breath then said, "She's asked me to promise that I will change her if anything goes wrong during the birth, if her life is in danger."

"I see."

I pressed my hand against the tree trunk, wood splintering and cracking beneath my palm. "God help me, I told her that I would do it."

Carlisle kept his hand upon my shoulder. "You don't want to lose her," he said gently.

I shook my head and whispered, "No."

"But you have never enjoyed the idea of taking away her humanity," he continued, his voice calm.

I closed my eyes against the tears that would not come. "I love her warmth, her heartbeat, her _life_."

"Yes. We all do. But she wants to ensure that she will see her child grow up, and that she will be with you forever. Her request was made out of the greatest devotion to both you and your child."

"I know." I opened my eyes to find his golden gaze fixed upon me. I saw only love and support in his expression. "I'm not sure that I could actually do it. If it came down to that crucial moment, I… I just don't know."

"In all likelihood, the delivery will proceed without complication," he said.

"That is my sincere hope," I agreed.

"But whatever happens, I will be there with you, and I promise that I will help with whatever you and Bella need."

I understood what he was offering. I knew it would not be an easy task for him; taking Bella's life would be nearly as wrenching to him as it would be for me.

He gave me a final nod, then he dropped his hand to his side. "I imagine you're eager to go home," he said with a wan smile.

"I am."

We moved swiftly through the darkness, no further words exchanged. There was nothing else we needed to say. When we reached the house, Carlisle embraced me briefly then went inside. I remained on the porch for a few minutes, listening to the soft, steady beat of Bella's heart. I could just make out the faint flutter of the baby's heartbeat through the protection of my wife's body and the barriers of doors.

I would meet my child in less than three months' time. I only hoped that when Bella met her, she would be able to cradle the newborn against her chest, over her beating heart.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	70. Chapter 70

**Note:** _Thank you for your patience! I've finished and submitted my outtake for the Fandom for Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. If anyone is interested in supporting this worthy cause, let me know and I will be glad to send you a link. _

* * *

><p>I waited two weeks before returning to work. Much of my time at home was pleasant, since I was able to be with Bella all day long. However, at the beginning of the second week I began to feel restless.<p>

Carlisle kept me informed about my patients, and I knew he was providing them with excellent care. Still, I missed my work and felt anxious knowing that several of my patients were reticent to see another physician.

Carlisle had checked on Mrs. Withers as promised. The elderly woman's heart was failing, and he had been somber when he reported her condition to me. He feared she would not last more than a few weeks. Most unsettling to me was the news that her characteristic spark had faded. She had lain passively while Carlisle examined her, barely speaking, her gaze fixed upon the ceiling.

I felt some mild concern for Mrs. Joseph, too. She had missed her scheduled appointment, although perhaps she thought that my absence from the office meant that she should not come in. I knew that she would seek assistance if she believed anything were wrong, but there were some complications that a skilled physician—particularly one with enhanced senses—would detect before she realized something was amiss.

Carlisle had treated a few patients at the office, and I knew that his gentle, caring nature had made them feel comfortable and confident in his abilities. I hoped that they would tell others that the elder Dr. Cullen could be trusted to provide the same care that I could.

My father made sure to give the Webers, as well as anyone else who inquired, updates on my condition. The townspeople believed that I was gradually regaining my strength and would be able to return to work fairly soon. Their concern touched me deeply.

Bella and Esme went into town several times during my convalescence. They had to go separately, of course, to maintain the ruse that one of them was taking care of me. They were careful to answer inquiries about me, ensuring that everyone received consistent information concerning my recovery.

At the end of the second week, Bella and I went into Madras to see Mrs. Withers. We both felt very worried about her so decided she would be the first patient I visited. I would wait until the following Monday to return to the office.

Helen answered our knock at the door, admitting us with a grateful expression. "I'm glad you're here," she said, then, addressing me, asked, "Are you feeling better?"

I nodded. "Yes, thank you. How is your mother-in-law today?"

Helen sighed. "Not very well, I'm afraid. She's been so quiet lately… and she barely eats."

I gave her shoulder a comforting pat. "May we see her?"

"Yes, of course."

Helen led us to the bedroom, where Mrs. Withers lay among the pillows and blankets, apparently sleeping. Her wan complexion and lusterless hair attested to her poor condition. I could hear her labored breathing and heartbeat clearly.

Bella and I walked to the bed, our fingers intertwined. It was my wife who spoke first.

"Mrs. Withers? It's Bella. Edward is here, too."

The paper-thin eyelids opened, but Mrs. Withers seemed to require a moment to focus her vision. "Bella?" she whispered, her gaze moving from Bella's face to mine. "And Dr. Cullen… oh, you came…"

"Of course we did," I said, taking her hand. Her pulse was weak and thready beneath my fingers. I lifted her wrist to kiss her knuckles.

"Bella. You're hurt." Mrs. Withers' voice was slightly stronger. "What happened, dear?"

Bella blushed. "It was an accident with the motorcar… "

"Oh no…" The elderly woman's eyes moved down to Bella's prominent belly.

Bella watched as Mrs. Withers' weakly lifted her thin hand to rest it against my wife's abdomen. "The baby is fine; she wasn't harmed at all. I just broke my wrist."

Mrs. Withers moved her gaze back to me. "Dr. Cullen, I thought you were going to take good care of your wife!" she scolded lightly.

"I should have done a better job," I replied with sincere remorse. "I'm keeping a much closer eye on her now."

"You'd better," Mrs. Withers said, moving a finger over Bella's belly. "This little one needs her mama."

"We're both fine," Bella assured her.

Mrs. Withers nodded. "Now, Dr. Cullen, what's this I heard about you ailing?"

"I was ill for a short while," I said, "but I'm doing much better now."

Her voice softening with kindness, she said, "Well, don't you overdo. Your father can take care of those who need doctoring. You just take care of your wife and baby."

With a mock frown, I replied, "Mrs. Withers, are you saying you prefer my father to me?"

She gave a weak snort. "Heavens no! Besides, there's nothing he can do for me anyway. Really, he'd make better use of his time with those who he can help."

Bella's heart began to beat faster, and I could smell the salt as tears formed in her eyes. We both knew that Mrs. Withers spoke the truth, but it was difficult to hear, particularly for my tender-hearted wife.

Mrs. Withers noticed Bella's burgeoning emotions and gripped her wrist feebly. "Hush, dear," she said gently. "I've had a good, long life, and I'm not quite through yet. Remember, I want to meet this baby."

The condition of her heart did not bode well for this. I agreed with Carlisle's assessment; Mrs. Withers had a few weeks left at best. Still, I offered her a smile.

"Nothing would make us happier," I said. "After all, you were the first one to know about her."

She gave me a little wink. "I usually am."

I made a pretext of listening to her heart, although I could perceive the organ's struggles clearly with just my ears. Mrs. Withers kept her eyes on Bella while I was bent over her, and she did not ask what my examination revealed. She knew her heart was failing.

Helen appeared in the doorway with a bowl in her hands. I could smell broth.

I put my instruments away then took the bowl from Helen. Focusing my gaze upon Mrs. Withers, I said gently yet firmly, "You haven't been eating enough. You need to have some of this."

"Yes, please try to eat something," Bella entreated softly.

Mrs. Withers could not deny my wife's request. I helped her to sit, and she permitted Bella to spoon about half of the bowlful into her mouth. I could tell that the woman's pride prickled slightly at having someone else feed her, but she was not strong enough to hold the bowl herself.

"I think you'll regain some of your strength if you continue eating," I told her.

Bella nodded encouragingly. "Even a little at a time will help. Promise me you'll try?"

It was difficult for anyone to refuse one of Bella's tender requests. Mrs. Withers nodded. "All right, dear."

Bella and I both felt melancholy as we left the tidy house. However, we took some comfort in the knowledge that we had brought our favorite patient a few minutes of pleasure.

We stopped at the office for a short while. I had missed my work place sorely, and I felt slightly cheered to be in the familiar surroundings. Carlisle and I chatted for a few minutes as he showed me the patient notes he had taken recently. Mrs. Joseph's file was at the bottom of the small stack; he had pulled it on the day of her appointment.

"I'll telephone her tomorrow," I said, "and make another appointment for early next week."

Carlisle nodded. "I know she's most comfortable with you."

"Yes," I agreed. It was not a matter of conceit; it was simply the truth. "I want to check her weight," I said. "She hadn't gaining much the last time I saw her. Speaking of which, I also want to get Bella on the scale."

I had not weighed my wife in several weeks. With the exception of her increasingly prominent belly, she remained quite slender. As of three weeks ago, she had added only twelve pounds to her slight frame since we discovered that she was pregnant.

"That's a good idea," he agreed. I knew he had been somewhat concerned about her weight, too.

"Sweetheart," I said from the small hallway, "would you mind coming in here for a minute?"

I gestured toward the examination room.

Walking toward me, she asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No, love," I replied. "I just want to weigh you."

"Oh… all right."

I helped her to step onto the scale then carefully adjusted the small weights to balance the beam on the fulcrum.

"One hundred eighteen pounds, three ounces," I reported.

"So I've gained about a pound and a half since last time," she confirmed.

"Yes."

"You look worried," she prompted gently.

"No, not really… Gaining about a pound per week at this stage is typical, but you were sick and then you were injured, both of which are taxing on the body."

Bella's expression reflected her growing concern. "For me. But what about the baby? Is she growing as she should?"

"I believe so, but let's get some measurements just to be certain."

Now that Bella was in her sixth month, I could make an approximate determination of the baby's development based upon fundal height. I tried to smile reassuringly as I helped her up onto the examination table.

She lay back while I got a measuring tape. I felt over her abdomen to ensure that the baby was not in a transverse position, then measured from the top of her pubic bone to the fundus of her uterus.

"Twenty-three centimeters," I told her. "That's within the expected range."

"More or less?" she questioned, and I knew she wanted an honest answer.

"Slightly on the lower end, but still normal. It's a good indicator that the baby is growing as it should and that there is sufficient amniotic fluid."

"Are you sure?"

I placed my hand behind her shoulder to assist her in sitting. With a light kiss, I replied, "Yes."

Carlisle offered Bella a reassuring smile as we left the room. He had remained in my office, but I knew he had overheard the proceedings. His small gesture appeared to ease her residual worries.

While I did not have serious concerns, I would have preferred that Bella's weight gain and fundal measurements were in the high end of the normal range. I would ensure that she ate well and often, and rested more.

At least I had determined one thing definitively: The baby's growth was in no way accelerated. I did not even realize that had I continued to harbor a shred of fear about this until the thought struck me then and there. By every indication, our child was developing normally. I hoped this boded well for an easy, uncomplicated birth.

In the meantime, I would do all I could to keep my wife healthy and strong.

* * *

><p>The day after seeing Mrs. Withers, Esme, and I took an excursion to Portland. Bella's new motorcar had arrived, and I was anxious to retrieve it. It was a beautiful automobile, and I could not suppress the relieved grin that spread over my face as my eyes skimmed the body and noticed the distinct absence of a crank. This would be a safe means of transportation for my wife.<p>

Bella would not be able to drive the Cadillac until her wrist was healed. I enjoyed my time behind the wheel as Esme and I made the return trip to Madras. She drove my automobile, following me along the roads. She did not have the chance to drive very often, but was a very capable operator and enjoyed the journey.

I tested the Cadillac's speed capabilities several times then had to wait for Esme to catch up. In each instance, she pulled up beside me with an amused smile and a little shake of her head.

While I enjoyed the automobile's power, I worried that Bella might have trouble controlling it if she drove it at top speed. I would be sure to caution her against doing that. Indeed, I had not asked her to accompany Esme and me to Portland for this reason. I needed to evaluate the automobile's capabilities alone to prevent any potential danger to her.

Bella had been slightly disappointed to be left at home, but Carlisle told me that he would spend the day with her, unless an emergency arose with a patient. I knew he was looking forward to his time with her, and I felt certain that she would enjoy his affable, affectionate company.

Carlisle and Bella came out of the house as soon as Esme and I drove up. Both were smiling and appeared relaxed. Bella's eyes widened as I slowed the motorcar.

"Oh my, it's lovely!" she said, stepping from the porch with Carlisle's hand at her elbow.

"Come and take a ride with me," I said, reaching for her hand.

She nodded, and Carlisle helped her into the seat. I could see that he admired the Cadillac, too. I wondered how long it would be until he decided to purchase one…

I drove off at a moderate speed, showing Bella the features of the automobile. She seemed very pleased by it and thanked me several times for buying it.

"Darling, it was my pleasure," I said. "I only wish I'd thought to do it sooner." I glanced at her sling with regret.

She moved closer to me, and I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. After kissing her cheek, I asked, "Did you and Carlisle have an enjoyable day?

"We did. We took a walk through the orchard and along the creek, and we played a game of chess… I think he let me win." She chuckled softly.

"What else did you do?"

"We talked quite a bit, more than we ever have before."

"What did you talk about?"

"He wanted to know about my childhood and about my father, and also about my education, especially the time I spent in college." She paused for a moment, wistful. "He's so kind, and he listens to me so intently, as if he's truly interested in what I'm thinking. I… I feel like I have a father again." I heard a poignant blend of both gratitude and guilt in her tone.

"You do, love. He can never replace your father, but he loves you as his daughter and is honored to be your father-in-law."

She rested her hand over her belly. "This little one is going to have the best grandparents a child could imagine."

"Indeed."

Both overcome with tender emotion, we did not speak again for some time, content within our thoughts.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	71. Chapter 71

I returned to work the next Monday, joining Carlisle at the office for several hours. While I would have enjoyed spending the entire day there, we felt it best that I gradually ease back into my professional life after my bout of "illness."

Carlisle and I were amiable partners in the practice. We were like-minded in our approach to diagnosis and treatment, rarely disagreeing about our patients' care. However, we required a little time to work out the logistics of our shared practice.

My established patients wished to consult with me and were reticent to see Carlisle initially. However, if examination or treatment required a physician's direct touch, I had no choice but to call in my father. Depending upon the issue, I had different explanations.

"I'm sorry, my hands aren't quite as steady as they should be yet," I told Mr. Nielsen when he came in with a deep laceration. "I'd prefer that my father suture this to ensure that it's done as well as possible."

When Miss Essie entered the office with a painful cough, I took her temperature and listened to her lungs before Carlisle happened to pass by the room. Glancing up at him, I asked Miss Essie if she would mind having him listen, too, just to be on the safe side. She could not refuse my concerned request. After he had checked her breathing, he felt her lymph nodes and examined her eyes and throat while I busied myself at one of the cabinets pretending to search for medicine.

Fortunately Mrs. Joseph's appointment was merely a consultation. She had no worrisome symptoms and appeared to be progressing well. Even so, I made a point of chatting with her and Carlisle for a few minutes before she left. I wanted her to trust him as she trusted me so that she would accept his assistance comfortably should it be necessary.

The shared practice appeared to be a success. I felt confident that together Carlisle and I could serve the community's needs. My professional burden was considerably eased.

My personal worries had waned somewhat, as well. Bella gained three pounds over the next two weeks, and my measurements indicated that the baby was growing steadily.

While Bella missed our patients, she was happy to help Esme in her efforts to prepare Angela's childhood home for its new occupants. Esme was careful to keep Bella's tasks very light, never permitting her to exert herself physically. With the cast still on her wrist, there were few chores she could do anyway.

Often my wife's assistance took the form of keeping my mother company or providing an opinion on a paint color, which Esme felt was very useful. Bella's perspective proved helpful in keeping Esme from accomplishing too much too quickly, as well. She was able to tell Esme how long each activity should take so that the preparations would appear to proceed at a human pace. The women spent many pleasant hours at the house, and within a few weeks it was ready for Carlisle and Esme to live in.

Carlisle had a telephone installed before they moved in. I was comforted with the knowledge that I would be able to reach him instantly if Bella and I needed him. Bella would have immediate access to Esme's assistance at any time, too.

* * *

><p>On the last Friday in October, Esme was putting the finishing touches on the house; she and Carlisle would bring in the final few items and their personal belongings the following day.<p>

The weather had turned cold, but it was dry. A brisk breeze shook leaves from the trees, leaving a light carpet of color upon the ground. Esme planned to complete a bit more pruning and clean up the yard so that everything would be tidy when the move occurred.

I drove Bella to the new house in the morning, walking her to the door.

"Stay warm, love," I reminded her. She had her cashmere scarf and gloves, as well as a coat, but she had not buttoned it.

"It's not that cold," she replied with a fond smile. "But I promise I won't get chilled."

Esme opened the door. "I already have cider heating on the stove," she informed us.

"Mmm, that sounds wonderful!" Bella said.

I kissed her cheek and wished both of them a good day. I grinned at the sound of their laughter as I returned to the motorcar and drove away.

Carlisle and I saw several patients before noon. We began with a visit to Mrs. Withers. I had taken him with me to see her the previous week as well. He had mentioned that she was more alert than she had been when he had examined her without me. While she was not as animated as she had been in Bella's presence, I could see that Carlisle's innate warmth and charm were beginning to win her over. I was glad that she was starting to like and trust him.

As we walked back to the office, he commented, "She's an extraordinary woman. I've never seen a patient last as long with such a degree of heart failure."

I nodded. "I think it's sheer force of will that keeps her going." With a sigh, I added, "But even the strongest determination can't prevent her heart from stopping…"

He squeezed my shoulder. We both knew that she had little time left. It could be a matter of days or—if she were very lucky—possibly weeks, but the woman's life was drawing to a close.

"We'll do all we can to keep her comfortable," he said gently.

"I just wish we could do more."

"As do I."

Even with his brilliant mind and two centuries' worth of knowledge and experience, there was nothing else Carlisle could offer Mrs. Withers. These thoughts left us both slightly despondent as we entered the office.

A few minutes later, the door opened to admit Mr. McMahon and Pearl. He carried the child in his arms. Her cheeks and nose were red; she had been crying. Her heartbeat and breathing told me that she was in pain. I smelled fresh blood

I hurried toward them. "Mr. McMahon, Pearl," I greeted briefly. "What's happened?"

"Pearlie's cut her foot pretty bad," he explained succinctly.

"Oh dear," I replied sympathetically. "Please bring her back to the examination room."

Carlisle was in the consulting room, but he heard our conversation. He knew that I would likely require his assistance. He gave me a nod as we passed the open doorway. Mr. McMahon set Pearl on the examination table then stood back. The little girl looked up at me with wide eyes.

"Is Mrs. Cullen here?" she asked softly.

"No, sweetheart, she's at home," I replied. "I'm sure she'll be sorry to hear that you got hurt. What happened?" I glanced at her father.

"One of the chickens got out of the yard and was up on the wood pile," he said. "She climbed up to get it and slipped. I'd been working on the plow—it was right next to the wood pile, and she must've hit her ankle on it, right against the blade…" Emotion overcame him for a moment. "There was so much blood."

I nodded in understanding. "All right. Let me have a look."

Pearl's shoe and stocking had been removed, and a strip of cloth was wrapped securely over the wound. Blood saturated the fabric. I unwound it, careful not to touch Pearl's skin. The laceration was deep, nearly to the bone, but fortunately the blade had not severed any major arteries. Still, it was a fairly serious injury and would require a number of sutures. I was surprised that the little girl was not crying currently, as I was certain she was in considerable pain.

I would need Carlisle's assistance to treat her. I spoke his name under my breath then waited a moment until he appeared in the doorway.

In an amiable tone, he asked, "Edward? Where are the—" Then he made a point to look at Pearl's ankle and said, "Oh dear. What can I do to help?"

As he stepped into the room, I made a brief introduction then explained, "My father and I are working together now. He came to help while I was ill…"

Mr. McMahon appeared to understand the implication that I was not yet fully recovered. He gave a short nod then moved aside as Carlisle approached the table.

He smiled gently at Pearl and said, "You're very brave, sweetheart."

"I'm going get you some medicine to make your ankle stop hurting," I told her. "While I'm doing that, Dr. Carlisle will take a look at it." I smiled again and risked a quick caress of her cheek. My ankle throbbed briefly.

I did not miss Carlisle's concerned glance in my direction, but I shook my head quickly to assure him that I was all right. I moved to the cabinet while he examined the child's injury more thoroughly than I'd been able to.

I prepared a syringe with morphine then gathered supplies to clean and suture the wound.

By the time I returned to the table, Pearl was crying. I knew how gentle my father was, but his assessment had caused her some pain. More than that, however, she was frightened. With the bandage removed, she could see the injury, which would certainly be alarming to a small child. Mr. McMahon had grown very pale, too.

"We're going to stitch up the wound," I informed him. "I'll give her morphine so she won't feel anything." I gestured toward the chair against the wall. "It won't take too long."

He nodded woodenly then bent to kiss Pearl's brow before shuffling off to the chair. I handed Carlisle the syringe, telling the child, "Dr. Carlisle is going to give you some medicine. You might feel a little pinch in your arm, but then you're going to feel much better, all right?"

I rested my hand over her head, encouraging her to look at me while Carlisle rolled up her sleeve and administered the morphine. For just a moment, I, like Pearl, wished Bella were in the room with us. I knew her presence would calm Pearl and allay her fears. The best I could offer was to stroke her hair softly and smile at her until the opiate took effect.

Soon her eyelids were drooping, and her pulse and respiration had dropped. I eased her back to lie upon the table while Carlisle began cleaning the wound. I prepared the suture needle and set out bandages.

My activity was interrupted by the telephone ringing. We occasionally received a call from a patient needing urgent attention, so I felt I should answer. Carlisle gave me a nod, indicating that he would not require my immediate assistance. I excused myself and went to the telephone.

It was not uncommon for our wives to call, so when I answered and heard Esme's voice I thought nothing of it. However, when I listened to her halting words, my chest tightened in alarm.

"Edward… come quickly," she said breathlessly.

"Esme? What's the matter?"

"It's Bella. She's… bleeding. We're…at…my… house." Esme was trying not to inhale, and she had expended her breath with her final words.

"I'll be right there," I said, my voice shaking as I hung up the telephone.

I hurried to get my bag from the consulting room, sparing a few excruciating moments to pause at the examination room door to say to Mr. McMahon, "There's an emergency… I'm sorry, I need to go…Carlisle will take good care of her."

Carlisle's expression showed that he had heard Esme's words. While his hands remained steady, his brow was tight. He gave a nod of acknowledgment and murmured rapidly, "I'll come as soon as I can."

I appreciated his words and exhaled a brief "thank you."

Then I hastened to the motorcar, glad I had driven the Cadillac. I pushed its limits as I sped toward my parents' house, dreading what might await me. Was it a portent that Mrs. McMahon's husband and daughter were in my office at this very moment? I could not shake the images of the woman's horrible ordeal from my mind.

I could smell Bella's sweet blood well before I arrived at the house. Esme stood on the porch, clasping her hands anxiously. Her glances alternated between the open door and my approaching vehicle. I applied the brakes and cut the engine swiftly, leaping from the motorcar and darting toward Esme.

"Edward," she said with a trembling voice, "I'm sorry… "

I shook my head and brushed past her. I hoped my mother would understand that my brusqueness was only because I needed to see my wife.

"Bella!" I cried as I stepped inside. The scent of blood was much stronger within the enclosed space.

"Back here," she called weakly. Her words sounded oddly muffled, and I thought she must be crying. I realized that she was in the lavatory at the end of the hallway.

I dashed to her, pausing for one brief instant as I entered the small room. Bella sat hunched on the commode, her head lowered and her hands over her face. She was ashen, but her blood was fresh and pungent.

My eyes raked over her as I moved to kneel before her. I realized that she was fully dressed, and the lid was lowered to make the commode into a seat. There were a few scarlet streaks on the edge of her hand but nowhere else.

"Darling," I began almost tremulously, "what… what happened?"

She lifted her head, and I saw that she held a handkerchief beneath her nose. It was spotted with blood.

"Nosebleed," she replied around the cloth.

"Nosebleed?" I repeated almost incredulously. Relief swept through me. "Is that… that's all?"

She nodded miserably. I knew that the blood was making her ill, exacerbating her discomfort and distress. I pulled a clean handkerchief from my pocket and lifted her chin slightly.

"When did it start?" I asked as I removed the soiled cloth and replaced it with the fresh one, wiping away as much of the blood as possible. However, it was still flowing.

"Ten minutes ago, maybe a little longer," she murmured.

Esme had called me immediately. I felt grateful for her quick action.

"All right, love. Keep you head down." I rested my hand over her crown. "I'm going to pinch your nose lightly for a few minutes."

"Mmm," she acknowledged.

I placed my thumb and forefinger on either side of her nostrils then gently pressed them closed. My hand moved down to rub at her neck and shoulders soothingly. I could feel her relaxing slightly.

I waited seven minutes then gingerly removed my fingers from her nose. The bleeding had ceased.

"Let's get this cleaned away," I said, wetting a washcloth and dabbing softly at the small streaks of dried blood on her face then wiping her hands.

Bella's eyes remained wide, and her color had improved little. I rested my fingers against her neck to feel her pulse. It was still rapid.

Lifting her into my arms, I said, "I think some fresh air would be a good idea."

I carried her into the room that Carlisle planned use as a study. Esme had placed a chaise along one wall. I set Bella upon the cushions then opened the window a crack. Then I sank down beside her, wrapping her in my arms. She rested her head against my chest.

"That's never happened before," she said softly.

"Nosebleeds aren't uncommon during the final months of pregnancy," I told her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, darling. The blood vessels in your nose are very delicate, and the increased blood supply your body is producing puts more pressure on them. Were you outside when it happened?"

She nodded. "I was on the porch… I had been all morning."

"Were you blowing your nose?"

"Yes… The cold and wind made me a little sniffly."

I kissed her forehead. "That puts even more strain on those delicate vessels."

I could feel her muscles relaxing. "It was scary," she admitted.

"Yes…I'm sure it was." I wondered if she heard the stark truth in my words. "How do you feel now?"

"Tired, and a little queasy."

I kissed her cheek. "I'll take you home soon."

"Is Esme all right?"

I heard my mother reply from the porch, "Yes."

"She's fine," I informed Bella.

"I feel terribly that I upset her so… She was shaking, Edward. I could see how hard it was for her to be near me, but she helped me inside then telephoned you."

I would thank my mother at the first opportunity. I heard her footsteps on the porch. She was anxious but hesitant to enter the house. It would be best for her to remain outside until all traces of blood were eradicated.

"Will you be all right here for a few minutes?" I asked Bella. "I should clean up in the bathroom."

She understood and gave me a nod. I cupped her cheek for a moment, glad that a hint of color was returning to her porcelain complexion. As I stood, I shifted her so that she reclined partially against the curved side of the chaise with her feet up. Then I hurried to the lavatory to wipe down the tile and gather the soiled cloths.

I took the linens into the parlor and placed them in the fireplace. I was just lighting a match when I heard Carlisle's automobile pulling up outside. By the time the flames had consumed the material, he had entered the house and gone to the study to see Bella. I heard him questioning her gently.

Esme was hovering in the entryway when I left the parlor. I offered her a small smile as I walked toward her.

"Thank you for calling me," I said.

Her expression remained distressed. "Edward, I'm so sorry…"

"There's nothing to apologize for," I replied.

She shook her head. "I wasn't of any help to Bella… She was so pale and shaky, and I couldn't do any more than see her to the lavatory."

"But you did, and that was a great help. You made sure she was safe. And more importantly, you managed to telephone me. You did very well."

"I just wish I could have done more."

I embraced her, murmuring, "It will get easier over time."

She nodded. "I suppose so…"

"It will. You're doing very well."

She looked up at me. "Thank you, Edward."

"Why don't you come and see Bella," I said, taking her hand. I wanted to be certain she knew that I trusted her.

Her tense expression softened. "All right."

We walked toward the study together. Carlisle was perched on the edge of the chaise beside Bella, one hand resting over her brow and the other wrapped around her arm. He was assessing her blood pressure.

He turned his head toward the doorway and gave me a nod as Esme and I entered the room. I watched for several seconds as his fingers gradually loosed against her arm. When a smile flickered across his lips, I knew he had determined that Bella was well.

I hurried to my wife's side, reaching for her hand. Esme approached her more slowly, but when Bella held out her other hand, my mother took it gratefully.

"Thank you for helping me," Bella said.

"I'm sorry I couldn't stay with you," Esme replied regretfully.

Bella squeezed her hand. "I understand."

"How are you feeling?" Esme inquired softly.

"Better. It was unnerving, but I think I'm all right?" Her gaze moved from Carlisle's face to mine.

Carlisle nodded, acknowledging to all of us that she was in no danger. "I know it was a frightening experience," he replied gently, "but it's a fairly common occurrence during pregnancy. It may happen again."

I saw Esme stiffen minutely. Carlisle stood, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her cheek. His expression showed that he was proud of her self-control.

"As soon as you're feeling up to it, you should eat something," Carlisle advised. While his words were directed at Bella, I felt they applied to Esme, as well.

"Let's go home," I said.

Bella agreed, and within a few minutes I had her settled in the Cadillac. Before I drove away, I paused to ask Carlisle how Pearl was.

"I closed the wound without any difficulty," he replied. "She was drowsy from the morphine and wasn't feeling any pain. I'll go out and visit her this evening to be certain she's not in any significant discomfort."

I thanked him then started the automobile, explaining briefly to Bella what had happened to Pearl. Hearing about the girl's injury did little to chase away the remnants of her nausea, but I knew she cared about the child and wanted to know what had occurred.

"The poor darling," she said.

"She should be fine," I assured my wife. "Perhaps we can stop by the farm tomorrow to see how she's doing."

"I'd like that."

By the time we arrived at the house, Bella's color was much better. The brisk air seemed to have restored some of her equilibrium, as well as encouraged her appetite. Even so, I decided to spend the rest of the day at home with her. I telephoned Carlisle to tell him that he would be working alone for the remainder of the afternoon. He understood and wished us well.

The day passed uneventfully. Esme returned just before dusk to finish packing a few personal items. While she appeared quietly cheerful, I could see a hint of tension around her eyes. The earlier incident had bothered her significantly.

When Carlisle arrived, he reported that Pearl was resting comfortably. I did not miss the intensity of his gaze as he greeted Bella. Like me, he would be extra vigilant of her condition for the foreseeable future. We both knew that the nosebleed was not necessarily a cause for concern, but it was a vivid reminder that complications were possible.

My mood was somewhat somber when I joined my parents in the parlor after Bella had retired for the night. Esme asked immediately if Bella was all right.

"Yes," I replied, "she seems fine."

Esme exhaled a sigh of relief. "I was so frightened when I saw all the blood," she confessed.

Carlisle rested his hand over hers. She glanced down then continued speaking, needing to share her feelings.

"I was frightened for her, and I was frightened that I might lose control. I didn't dare to breathe…"

"You were very controlled," I reassured her. "You did exactly the right thing."

My words did little to assuage her. "This time, perhaps," she continued slowly. "But if there's blood again…"

Neither Carlisle nor I had a response to this. While we all hoped fervently that Bella would suffer no difficulties, we could guarantee nothing.

Esme read my troubled expression. "Oh no, Edward, I didn't mean it to sound that way. I'm sure she's going to be fine. I was just thinking about the birth. I suppose I had thought I could be nearby so that I could help if I were needed. But I realize now that I'll need to be far away. I can't be with my daughter…" She sniffled, an automatic response when emotions welled. "I just feel terribly that she won't have her mother with her, and I wish I could provide her with some comfort."

Carlisle pulled her to his side. "Sssh, my love, you will be with her in spirit, and she'll know it."

"Yes," I agreed, "she will."

"I don't even know if I'll be able to be close to the baby," she continued.

"You will eventually," I assured her.

But her words renewed my fears about my own limitations. I wondered if Bella had considered the issue my special ability might present with our child. And, should the very worst come to pass, would I be able to care for my infant son or daughter? It was a sobering thought indeed.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	72. Chapter 72

**_Note:_** I'm sorry I didn't respond to many reviews for the last chapter. I truly appreciate every single one. A particularly busy few weeks have left me with little time, and I wanted to devote my spare minutes to preparing a new chapter. Thank you for understanding.

* * *

><p>On the surface, the next week passed by pleasantly enough. My parents settled into their new house easily. Little Pearl's wound was healing well. Carlisle and I worked amiably together, developing an easy rhythm that allowed him to complete the procedures that I could not in a seemingly natural manner. He always managed to pass the examination room at just the right time…<p>

I was still refraining from working full days, so Carlisle saw several new patients by himself. He reported in the humblest way possible that he thought they were satisfied with his service and would be willing to see him again.

Mrs. Withers' condition remained fairly stable, a fact which surprised both my father and me considerably. While she was in a very fragile state, she seemed to be hanging on steadfastly. I took Bella to visit her toward the end of the week, and it was clear that my wife's presence had a salutary effect upon the ill woman.

Bella did not have any more nosebleeds, and she was feeling fairly energetic. I saw no worrisome symptoms in my wife. However, my concerns about my ability to care for our child remained, niggling at me in quieter moments. I need to discuss this with Bella and resolved to do so soon.

When I arrived home on Friday afternoon, I found Bella sitting in the kitchen with her hand over her belly, her expression tense.

"Darling?" I questioned, immediately concerned. "Are you all right?"

She looked up at me. "I… I'm not sure. I think I'm having cramps, but they don't really hurt." She moved her hand lower. "It feels hard."

Instantly I was at her side, my hands moving to feel over her womb. "When did they start?"

"About twenty minutes ago. This is the second one."

There was no scent of blood or amniotic fluid. However, I felt the rigidity of her uterus beneath my fingers.

"Do you have any lower back pain?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"Is there any pressure?" I moved my hand down to indicate the area of concern.

"No," she replied.

I tried to think rationally and professionally and remain calm. I went to the sink and filled a glass with water.

"Drink this, love," I instructed gently.

While she complied, her eyes never left my face. She was watching to see if I was concerned. I tried to smile at her, but it felt forced. As she set the empty glass upon the table, I knelt before her, resting my hands over her abdomen again.

"Just wait a minute," I murmured.

I felt the tightness began to fade, and Bella exhaled. "Oh, that feels better," she said.

I nodded. "Do you remember what I told you about false labor?"

"Yes… practice contractions to prepare for the real thing," she replied.

"That's right. You'll probably start to experience them fairly often." Mentally I reviewed the seminal text by Dr. Braxton Hicks and discussions I had engaged in with Carlisle recently. "There's nothing to be concerned about as long as they aren't painful and you don't have more than four in an hour. They may come on when you're more active—talking a walk or doing housework—or if you haven't been drinking enough water."

A light blush spread over her cheeks. "I didn't drink very much today," she admitted, "and I was up and down the stairs several times just before it happened."

"Sweetheart, you need to take it easy. I know you're used to keeping busy, but it's important that you don't overexert yourself. I can help you with anything you need, and Esme is always ready to come over, too."

"I know. I just don't like to impose…"

"Believe me, it's never an imposition, to either Esme or me."

Bella's brow furrowed again, and for a moment I worried that she was experiencing another contraction. However, once she spoke I understood her expression.

"I don't want to make Esme uncomfortable," she said, looking down for a moment.

"What do you mean, love?"

"She seems a little hesitant around me. I think she's worried that I'll have another nosebleed…"

"She's just being cautious," I explained.

"I know, and I appreciate that. But I trust her. I love being with her, and I just wish there were something I could do to make her feel more comfortable when she's with me. If only I hadn't had that stupid nosebleed…"

"You couldn't help it," I reassured her. Rubbing my thumb beneath her navel, I added softly, "I think Esme was more upset by the implication of it than the actual event."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"She had hoped that she could be nearby during the birth to help if needed, and to offer you comfort. She realizes now that she won't be able to be in proximity, and she feels badly about that."

"She wanted to be there?" Tears welled in Bella's beautiful eyes. "Oh, I didn't know. That's so kind of her."

"It is," I agreed. I spread my hand over her abdomen, glad to feel that the muscle remained relaxed.

"I think I feel a little sorry now knowing that she can't be present. I would have liked that, too."

I offered her a bittersweet smile. "I know."

"You still want Carlisle there, don't you?" she questioned.

"Yes." I kissed her gently. "I want you and our child to have the best care possible."

She nodded. "I know. But Edward, if everything is going as it should, please, will _you_ deliver the baby?" She met my gaze with a pleading intensity.

"Of course, darling. That's what I want, too."

"Maybe Carlisle can just hold my hand," she suggested, her cheeks coloring.

"I'm sure nothing would please him more. He'll help in any way he can."

I waited a few moments before speaking again. This was the time to be certain Bella understood all of the reasons that I would require Carlisle's presence. I took her hand, lifting it to press my lips over her palm.

"Bella, he needs to be there for the baby as much as for you," I finally said.

She gave me a quizzical look, understanding slowly creeping over her. "Oh… Oh yes, of course." Her fingers tightened around mine. "I'm sorry. I hadn't really thought about that. I suppose I'd assumed that if you were touching me when you held her it would be all right…"

"It's best that Carlisle is there, just in case," I replied softly.

She smiled thinly. "Yes."

I suppose my expression showed the tenor of my thoughts. Bella caressed my cheek comfortingly, telling me without words that she understood my worry. I kissed the trails of her tears then pulled her into my arms.

"I love you, Edward," she whispered, "no matter what."

* * *

><p>Bella's wrist appeared to be healing well. She was eager to have full use of her arm again. She had missed sewing in particular. If ever there were a time when her skills with needle and thread were wanted, it was during the final two months of her pregnancy. She was anxious to make clothing for the baby, even though I assured her that we could purchase as many items as needed.<p>

Yet I understood her desire to sew the tiny clothes herself. It was her way of preparing, of putting a bit of her loving character into the layette. As she had done with Pearl's dress months ago, she added little details that made the pieces unique.

While her wrist was healing, she and Esme had spent many pleasant afternoons together with the sewing basket between them. My mother was gracious, taking care to ask for Bella's opinion with each bit she sewed to ensure that the clothes suited Bella's tastes.

Bella loved each finished gown, showing them to me with shining eyes. They were so small. My still heart felt warm as I imagined our pretty little baby in each one. The image was usually of the infant in Bella's arms, but occasionally I envisioned Esme or Carlisle holding the child. Rarely did I allow myself to picture the infant cradled in my hands, but when I did, Bella's fingers were always upon my wrist or neck.

I did not dare to hope that our child would share Bella's singular gift. Indeed, such a trait was highly unlikely. Carlisle and I had discussed this at length a number of times, and we both believed that Bella's ability was a magnificent fluke. And even if, by some infinitesimal chance, the baby inherited this trait, it would surely be muted.

In many ways, it would be preferable if I experienced our child's sensations just as I did those of all with whom I came into contact. This would allow me to know what the little one felt. If he or she were ill or injured, I would immediately be able to understand the problem and treat it expediently and appropriately. While I would need to exercise some caution, I would have a unique ability to care for my child, one that no other father possessed. I would truly be able to keep my son or daughter safe in every sense of the word.

I tried to keep my thoughts on the positive aspects of my ability. But sometimes I felt a flicker of remorse knowing that I would not be able to be in direct physical contact with my child for more than a few consecutive moments if he or she were sick or hurt. And those were the times when I would want to offer comfort, to rest my cool hand over the fevered brow or kiss away the pain of a scraped knee. While it was true that I could soothe my child's ills if Bella were beside me, I acknowledged that there would be times when she would not be available. Then I would have to settle for whatever small gestures I could manage, however brief or insignificant.

I would gladly experience my child's pain, no matter how wrenching it was for me. However, I could not risk my sanity again. My wife and child needed me; I would not abandon them to a fractured psyche.

These were the thoughts that guttered through my mind in the long, silent hours while Bella slept. I was usually by her side, listening to her steady heartbeat and soft breathing. Often my hand rested against the luscious fullness of her belly, over our baby. The infant's heartbeat reverberated gently, and the little movements were increasingly frequent and incrementally stronger with each day. I would lie quietly for some time each night, marveling at my wife's wondrous body and the life it nurtured. But invariably my awed musings would gradually shift to ruminations, often leaving me vaguely anxious for the remainder of the night.

In the morning, Bella's bright eyes and shining smile chased away my darker thoughts. Yet they never ceased entirely, receding for some hours only to surface again the next night.

* * *

><p>It had been six weeks since the accident with the motorcar. On a Monday morning in November, I brought Bella to the office so that I could remove her cast. I wanted to weigh her and take another measurement of fundal height, as well, but she was anxious to be rid of the hard plaster encasing her arm, so I attended to this task first.<p>

I had planned to ask Carlisle to cut off the cast. I preferred to err on the side of caution and defer to his years of experience when it came to using a saw on my wife's delicate wrist. However, he was summoned to one of the outlying farms shortly before Bella and I arrived, and she did not wish to wait for him to return.

So I carefully cut through the plaster and pulled away the pieces. I wiped Bella's arm with a warm cloth to remove the bits of cotton, then I felt over the injury site to be certain the bone was fully fused.

"It feels good," Bella reported as I examined her wrist. "But it looks terrible!"

Some minor atrophy and skin discoloration was to be expected. "It will return to normal soon," I assured her as I rotated her hand.

She winced slightly, indicating some stiffness in the radiocarpal joint. A look of disappointment fell over her pretty face.

"I'm sorry, love," I said. "You'll need to exercise the joint slowly to regain full use without pain. It shouldn't take too long, though."

"That's good, because I have so much to do still."

I knew she wanted to prepare the nursery and finish the clothes. Although Esme's and my help was always available, there were a few things she wished to complete herself.

I kissed her lightly and replied, "Just take it easy for a few days. I'll show you some exercises tonight. They'll help to restore your mobility."

She nodded, pleased with the news. She was also happy to hear that the measurements I took showed steady growth. She had still not gained quite as much weight as I would have liked, but she did weigh a pound more than she had two weeks previously.

As I helped her step off the scale, I said, "Darling, I want you to try to eat a little more, particularly eggs, meat, and milk."

She rested a hand over her belly. "I just feel so full after I eat, even if it's not very much. It's uncomfortable."

"That's to be expected. Let's try small meals six or seven times a day, all right?"

"All right," she agreed.

I made a mental note to mention this plan to Esme to enlist her help. She visited Bella daily, so I knew she would ensure that my wife ate more frequently. Bella could never resist Esme's gentle, maternal requests.

Cast removed and brief examination concluded, Bella walked over to the store to see Angela and Rosemary while I remained at the office. Bella worried less about my contact with patients now that Carlisle worked with me. However, she encouraged me to telephone if I needed her help. I promised that I would.

Carlisle returned just after noon. Eager to implement Bella's new dietary plan, I left for the Webers' store. When I entered, I saw Ben behind the counter. Angela and Bella were nowhere in sight; however, I could hear three heartbeats faintly through the door to their living quarters.

I greeted Ben cheerfully, walking toward the counter.

"Afternoon, Edward," he replied, looking up with a smile.

We chatted for a minute, then he gestured toward the house. "Ange is feeding the baby, but she should be about done by now."

I listened to the soft voices and accompanying sounds behind the door. Rosemary had just finished nursing, and Angela was patting her back softly. Even with all the knowledge I possessed from my years of study and practice, I still felt slightly awed by the wondrous workings of a woman's body. Soon Bella's body would nourish our child-another small miracle accomplished by my wife.

When Ben grinned, I realized that my expression revealed my thoughts. "Just a couple more months now," he commented. "Don't worry; you're going to be a good father."

"I hope so," I replied.

The front door opened, admitting a customer. "Go on back," Ben told me.

I thanked him then entered the house. I waited in the hallway for a moment then called Angela's name softly.

"Edward," she responded, "we're in the parlor."

I walked through the small home, pausing in the doorway to enjoy the scene before me. Rosemary sat in Angela's lap, her little hands waving happily as she leaned forward to grasp Bella's hand. Bella laughed as the chubby little fingers closed over her thumb. Both women's faces showed their joy at this simple moment.

Angela and I exchanged a few pleasantries, then I escorted Bella to the motorcar. She was rather quiet on the short drive home, I could tell that she was immersed in thought.

"What are you thinking about, love?" I asked as we neared our house. I reached for her hand.

"Angela is such a good mother," she replied. "She just seems to know what to do-even on that first day, when she was exhausted, she held Rosemary and fed her as effortlessly and naturally as she does now." I heard a hint of hesitation beneath her words.

We had reached our home. I parked the automobile then turned to face Bella. "Darling, you're going to be a wonderful mother, too."

Her brow furrowed slightly. "But what if I don't know what to do? What if it doesn't come as naturally to me?"

"I think it will," I replied sincerely. "And I will be with you every step of the way. If something is a little difficult or doesn't seem to work quite right, we'll figure it out together."

I helped her out of the vehicle and kept my arm around her as we walked to the house. After she ate lunch, Bella yawned. She was often in need of a nap during the early afternoon. We walked up the stairs together.

I bent to remove her shoes as she sat down on the bed. I rubbed her feet gently; they were slightly swollen. She sighed appreciatively, sliding her hand into my hair. Soon both of her hands were caressing my scalp, and it was my turn to sigh happily.

"Mmm," she murmured, "I've missed being able to do this." She nodded toward her healed wrist then moved her fingers over my cheek, trailing then down my neck.

"I've missed that, too," I confessed. I pressed my lips over her small wrist then rose, pulling her into my arms and kissing her mouth. I felt the need to touch her, to feel her warm, soft skin beneath my lips and hands.

I loved her body reverently, slowly, and with infinite gentleness that afternoon. As she lay in my arms afterward, skin still flushed and limbs relaxed completely, I felt at peace. My worries had not dissipated entirely, but they had subsided. Perhaps I was taking my own advice to heart: The issues that concerned me seemed less daunting when I thought about facing them with Bella.

I began to hum the melody I had created for her those many months ago. I could never have imagined then that I would be a husband and a father. Sometimes life was miraculous indeed.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	73. Chapter 73

November was a cold month, with biting winds and icy rains. For Bella and me, however, this only made our evenings before the hearth more enjoyable. Together, we felt safe, snug, and warm in our home.

Many nights Carlisle and Esme joined us for a game of whist or a short violin recital. Bella and Esme continued to work on clothing and blankets for the baby. My wife was pleased that she could sew again, and my mother's skill with knitting needles produced perfect little booties, caps, and sweaters.

Esme had completed another project, as well. Before the weather turned too frigid, she had finished the breezeway between the newly expanded garage and house. Bella could park the motorcar in the shelter of the large shed then walk into our home shielded from the wind and rain. I was grateful to my mother for undertaking this task; it provided my precious wife with an extra measure of safety and protection.

Bella loved the Cadillac. As soon as her wrist was fully flexible, she had enthusiastically gotten behind the wheel of her automobile. She was an excellent driver—careful and observant—and she enjoyed taking trips to town to visit Angela and making the short drive to my parents' house to see Esme while I was working.

By the end of November, however, Bella began having some difficulty getting in and out of her motorcar. Her heavier belly left her somewhat unwieldy. She was gaining weight at a steady rate, although it was still slightly less than I liked. Most of the additional pounds were centered in and around her womb. Her breasts were fuller, and her hips had widened a bit, but her limbs remained slender.

Still, my measurements showed that the baby was growing well. Its heartbeat was strong and steady, too, and it was an active little thing, moving about with increasing frequency and strength.

The first time it delivered a solid kick, I thought Bella was having another set of practice contractions. She had just finished her supper, and we were walking to the parlor, where a fire glowed softly. She stopped walking abruptly, pressing her hands over her belly.

"Oh!" she cried, her face pinching in pain.

"Sweetheart?" I questioned, my hand moving to rest beneath hers. I had expected to feel the now-familiar rigidity. But her abdomen was soft.

"I think she's kicking, I mean really kicking!" she exclaimed. Her expression changed, and she smiled.

Beneath my hand I felt the tiny foot as it hit Bella's womb. "Oh… yes, that certainly seems like a kick." I chuckled in delight. Our child's movements always pleased and amazed me, no matter how often they occurred.

"She must have liked the roast," Bella commented. "Ooh, there she goes again!" She hunched over slightly. "That was a strong one."

I wrapped my arm around her and helped her to the sofa. We settled down, Bella in my embrace with both sets of hands upon her belly.

After several more energetic kicks, I commented, "Perhaps he'll be an athlete—I think football might be the sport for him."

Bella nudged me in the ribs. "Oh stop! You know as well as I do that it's a girl."

I kissed the nape of her neck. "Darling, that's just a guess. Really, you should be prepared for a boy."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have another name chosen, just in case," she conceded.

"Will you be disappointed if it's not a girl?"

She looked up at me, her gaze filled with adoration. "Of course not. A little boy would have so much of you in him; how could I not love that?"

I kissed her cheek and then her lovely mouth, and soon the only sounds in the room were the crackle of the fire and the whisper of my lips over her skin.

* * *

><p>Bella was managing fairly well with the increasing discomfort of her pregnancy. She had never been one to complain, and the joy surrounding our baby's eventual arrival seemed to mitigate some of the normal aches and pains she felt. Still, I encouraged her to tell me if she had any new symptoms, and I remained vigilant for any signs of difficulty. Fortunately she had not developed any serious complications such as gestational diabetes, toxemia, or anemia.<p>

By early December, however, the baby's movements and shifting position often caused Bella discomfort. For two weeks, the little one's favorite orientation seemed to be with its foot wedged beneath the left side of her ribcage. The kicking did not diminish, and pain would flicker across my wife's face frequently when the infant was active. We discovered by accident that pressing my hands lightly over the sore spot would result in the baby's moving away. Apparently the coolness of my skin was perceptible to the tiny foot, and within a few minutes Bella and I would feel the small body shift enough to provide her with some relief.

In general, this was a time of contentment for us. In addition to our excitement about the baby, the holidays were approaching. Bella and I both looked forward to sharing the season with our family and friends.

Bella wrote to her mother at the end of November, inviting Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer to visit for Christmas. Mrs. Dwyer had exchanged a few letters with Bella over the past two months, but the sentiments were always superficial. Mrs. Dwyer would typically end with a line or two expressing her wish that Bella was well, with few, if any, direct words about the baby. I knew that my wife was disappointed by her mother's lack of interest, yet Bella still wished for her mother to share in our joy.

"I think if she sees how happy we are," Bella told me as she handed me the letter containing the holiday invitation, "she'll feel excited, too. I want our child to know her grandparents, to have a big family even if she won't have any siblings."

I kissed Bella's cheek and kept a smile on my face until I left the house. Then my expression fell. Her words saddened me. I wished we could have several children but knew this pregnancy was close to a miracle; another one was not possible. Bella's hopefulness about her mother's response also left me slightly despondent. I doubted that Mrs. Dwyer would wish to visit us. She had been back from Europe for several months and had not yet made the trip. Her letters were filled with lists of activities and events she attended, none of which were as important as spending a few days with her daughter should have been.

I mailed the letter dutifully and tried not to dwell upon it. Mrs. Dwyer usually responded to letters within ten days, but by mid-December Bella still had not heard from her. She was growing concerned and contemplating sending a telegram or trying to place a telephone call to Boise. She did not believe that Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer had a telephone, but she thought of a family friend who did.

I had no worries that Bella's mother was ill or incapacitated in any way. I felt certain that she was simply delaying the delivery of bad news. Of course she would not be joining us for the holidays; she was taking her time to reply so that there would be no opportunity for Bella's response to change her mind.

Given the tenor of my thoughts, I was doubly surprised when Bella telephoned me at the office nine days before Christmas to tell me that Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer had just arrived at our house. Bella's voice quavered slightly, and I worried that the unexpected event was unduly stressful for her. I promised to return as soon as possible.

Carlisle was glad to oversee the office for the remainder of the day. I hurried to the motorcar and drove home as quickly as I could.

A Model T was parked in front of our house. I could hear voices inside, one loudest and most prominent.

"…hang this on the front door," Mrs. Dwyer was saying.

I hastened to the house just as Mr. Dwyer was opening the door. Mrs. Dwyer stood at his side, a large wreath in her hands.

"Oh, Edward!" she exclaimed. "Merry Christmas!" She held the braided strands of pine and holly out to me.

I took the decoration, my eyes searching for my wife. Bella was standing behind her mother, cheeks pink and eyes bright.

"Mrs. Dwyer, Mr. Dwyer," I greeted. "This is certainly a surprise."

Quickly I settled the wreath upon the hook then shut the door. It was a chilly afternoon, and cold air was swirling through the house. Without removing my gloves, I shook Mr. Dwyer's hand then took my mother-in-law's hands in mine and kissed her cheek.

My gaze found Bella again. She smiled and nodded at me; I knew she was all right. Her mother's unexpected visit was a welcome surprise. Bella offered to prepare tea, but I insisted gently that she sit in the parlor with her mother and step-father while I went to the kitchen to gather some refreshments.

Mrs. Dwyer spent some time telling Bella about the trip to Europe. Mr. Dwyer remained quiet, either in awe of his wife's effervescence or cowed by her crowing; I could not determine which.

As I set the tea tray on the parlor table, Bella pushed herself up to serve. Her mother was too involved in a tale about visiting Versailles to help. I kept my hand in the small of Bella's back as she poured the steaming brew into the cups, then I passed them to Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer.

I had no idea what the older couple's plans were, and if they intended to stay with us for any length of time I wished to know. It would undoubtedly entail extra effort for Bella, and that was something I wanted to avoid if possible.

When Mrs. Dwyer paused to draw a breath, I said, "We weren't expecting to see you, but it's a pleasure, particularly at this time of the year. Will you be with us for the holidays?"

"Oh my, no," Mrs. Dwyer replied immediately, her tone rather dismissive.

I saw Bella's smile fade and reached for her hand, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"We're just stopping for the night," Bella's mother continued. "We're on our way to San Francisco! Phil has a cousin there—Walter—and he's the assistant stage manager for the opera house. He wired us a few days ago to tell us that he'd managed to get us tickets to three shows. We attended the opera in Paris, and you know how fond I've always been of music. We went back again and again. I missed that in Boise, so when Walter told us he could arrange for us to attend several holiday performances, we just couldn't say no."

"How long will you be in San Francisco?" I asked, keeping Bella's hand in mine.

"The performances are on the twenty-second, twenty-seventh, and thirty-first. Imagine going to the opera for New Year's!"

Bella's breathing had changed. I knew she was suppressing tears. She had hoped her mother's visit would be more than a last-minute stopover. Knowing that Mrs. Dwyer was only here because she had been offered the chance to go to San Francisco clearly stung my wife's tender feelings. Still, she tried to be gracious, saying, "It's nice to see both of you. I'll make up the guest room, and I can roast a chicken for supper."

"That'd be great, honey," Mrs. Dwyer said.

"Thank you, Bella," Mr. Dwyer added. "But please don't go to any trouble for us. We can stay at the rooming house."

"Oh no," Bella replied, "we want you to stay here, especially since you're only going to be with us for one night." I heard the little catch in her voice at the end of her statement, but her mother did not appear to notice.

I gave an obligatory nod of agreement, but it was difficult to put much conviction into it.

Mrs. Dwyer continued talking for some time. Bella was becoming uncomfortable in her chair. I could see the slight shifting of her posture. Finally she began to rise. Immediately I stood to help her to her feet.

Mr. Dwyer smiled sympathetically, but Mrs. Dwyer simply stopped speaking and said, "Bella?" in a rather reproving tone.

"Please excuse me," Bella said, her cheeks coloring. This confirmed my suspicions that she needed to empty her bladder. Her discomfort was obvious by this point.

She left the parlor, and the three of us sat quietly for a few moments. I began to gather the tea things. Phil looked up at me when I took his cup.

"Bella looks well," he said. "I haven't had a chance to congratulate you."

He extended his hand. I had no choice but to take it. I grasped it as quickly as possible, somewhat relieved to discover that Phil was apparently in good health and feeling well.

"Thank you," I responded with a glance at Mrs. Dwyer.

She gave me a nod. "If things were different, we'd ask you to come to San Francisco with us. I'm sure Walter could get two more tickets to at least one of the shows."

"Bella and I are looking forward to spending Christmas here with my parents and our friends." I could not keep the flinty edge from my voice.

"We'd like to stop on our way back from San Francisco," Phil said, "if you think that would be all right?"

"When do you plan to return?" I questioned.

"The first week of January," he said.

Mrs. Dwyer reached over to place her hand upon his arm. "Oh honey, I was hoping we could stay in the city a few more days, maybe see a ballet?"

"If you like," he responded. It was clear that he loved seeing his wife happy.

"So that would bring us back here around the middle of the month," she clarified.

"We expect the baby the last week of January," I said. "I'm sure Bella will be pleased to see you again, but I don't know if she'll be feeling well enough for houseguests."

"Goodness Edward," Mrs. Dwyer scoffed lightly, "it's not as if she's not ill…" Then her expression shifted, and I saw worry cross her features.

I was tempted to let her fret for a few minutes, but I knew that would displease Bella. So I said, "No, she's doing fine. But I want her to get plenty of rest during the last couple of weeks before the baby comes."

Mrs. Dwyer shook her head and chuckled. "She may just surprise you. I had more energy than ever the week before Bella was born."

"Even so," I replied, "it's important that she's as strong as possible. It might be best if you planned to stay in town when you return."

"Of course," Phil said easily.

Bella returned from the bathroom to tell us that she needed to start supper. Her mother did not offer to help, so I accompanied her to the kitchen to see if I could assist her with anything.

As I removed the chicken from the ice box, she pressed her hands against her back, saying, "I need to make up the guest bed."

"I can do that."

She smiled fondly. "You are the most intelligent, talented man I know, but darling, your housekeeping skills leave a bit to be desired."

I gave her a mock frown. "I don't have much experience with making beds—a pitfall of not sleeping, I suppose—but I'm sure I can figure it out."

She motioned toward the roasting pan on the table, and I set the chicken in it. After washing my hands quickly, I pulled her into my embrace. I massaged her back softly as she slid her arms around me and rested her head against my chest.

"Are you all right, love?" I asked gently.

She understood that I was asking about her emotional well-being as much as her physical condition.

"I'm fine," she said. "At least she's here for a day… That's better than not coming at all." She drew a shaky breath.

"What is it, love?"

Her fingers curled to grip lightly at my shirt. "She… she didn't even ask about the baby. When she saw me, she just said, 'Oh, look at you.' That was all."

"I'm sorry," I whispered. I kissed her crown, holding her tenderly for a long minute. Then I heard the sound of an engine approaching. I was fairly certain I knew who our latest visitors were. I listened for a moment until I could discern the familiar voices.

"Sweetheart, Carlisle and Esme are driving up," I informed her.

This news elicited a small smile from her. I knew my parents would move at human pace, so I lit the oven and placed the chicken inside after Bella had seasoned it. Together we walked toward the entry hall just as the knock was audible.

I opened the door to admit Carlisle and Esme. He placed his hands upon Bella's shoulders as soon he entered, saying kindly, "I hope you don't mind our stopping by. We wanted to say hello to your mother and Mr. Dwyer."

Esme added just loudly enough for me to hear, "And we thought Bella could use some help."

"Thank you," I murmured quickly.

Bella hugged Carlisle, saying, "I'm glad you came."

After a few minutes of greetings and polite conversation, Esme went to the kitchen with Bella to help her with the vegetables. My mother also managed to prepare the guest bedroom before Bella realized what she was doing.

Afternoon slipped into evening with relative ease. My parents' warm presence seemed to bring out the best in Mrs. Dwyer. She was quite amiable and charming. However, I noticed repeatedly that she gave most of her attention to Carlisle and Esme, rarely looking at Bella.

At least Mrs. Dwyer complimented my wife on supper. "This is delicious, honey!" she said. "I don't know where you learned to cook… certainly not from me!"

After the meal, we all retired to the parlor. Bella and I had not put up a Christmas tree yet; we would do that on the twenty-third. But she had placed a few tasteful decorations on the mantle, and the room looked warm and festive.

She and I sat on the settee, while Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer took the arm chairs and Carlisle and Esme settled on chairs near the hearth. I could see that Bella was tired; the day's events had been taxing for her. Yet she wished to spend as much time as possible with her mother.

Fortunately Phil seemed to notice her fatigue, and before 9:00 he suggested that he and his wife should go to bed, since they planned to depart early in the morning. I gave him a grateful nod, and, after he shook my parents' hands and Mrs. Dwyer hugged them, the couple went upstairs.

We bid good night to my parents, then I helped Bella up to our room. I thought she would go to bed right away, but instead she went to the closet, rummaging on one of the shelves to pull out two boxes.

"I'll wrap these and give them to my mother and Phil in the morning," she said.

I realized that she had purchased Christmas gifts for them on the chance they would accept her invitation. I retrieved the wrapping things, watching as her slender hands secured the pretty paper and tied ribbons around the packages.

"Now will you come to bed?" I asked, stroking her cheek.

"Yes," she replied.

Soon we lay together, her head upon my chest and my hand spread over her belly.

"At least she came," Bella said softly.

I kissed her forehead. "Yes."

Her eyes closed, and she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p>Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer were surprised by their gifts. "Let's take them and open them on Christmas morning," Bella's mother suggested brightly.<p>

"That way we'll feel like we're with you," Phil added kindly.

He shook my hand and hugged Bella, saying, "Take care of yourself and that little one."

"I will," she promised.

"Yes," Mrs. Dwyer seconded as she gave Bella brief embrace, "you keep well."

Bella and I watched as they drove off. I could sense her mild despondency. I took her hand and said, "Why don't we visit the McMahons today. I know Pearl would love to see you."

She smiled at my suggestion. We had both missed our sweet little neighbor's Saturday visits while her ankle healed.

"I'll make gingerbread men," she said. "The children seem to like those."

"As well as the lovely angel who bakes them."

Bella spent a pleasant hour baking, and I helped her to decorate the cookies with raisins and nuts. When they were cool, she placed them in a basket with a red cloth, affixing a spring of holly with a red bow to the handle. Then we drove to the McMahons' farm, where we shared some holiday cheer with our neighbors.

Each day after that brought a bit more Christmas spirit. Current and former patients stopped by the office to bring small gifts and tokens of appreciation. Carlisle and I received cookies, cakes, and hams, as well as knit scarves from Mrs. Joseph and pretty handmade lacy ornaments from the McMahon children.

Carlisle and I went out late on December 22 to find Christmas trees for our homes. While my parents planned to spend most of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with Bella and me, they felt it best to have some decorations in their home in case visitors stopped by. Esme was really quite glad to have a reason to hang wreaths and trim a tree; she exuded a quiet holiday spirit.

By the morning of the 23rd, both homes had fragrant evergreens in the parlor. Esme and Bella decorated our tree, enjoying the task considerably. Bella nibbled on pfefferneuse my mother brought, hanging some from the branches, too. Carlisle and I strung popcorn and cranberries, our surgeons' hands particularly suited to this chore.

The tree was finished by lunchtime, and we all stood back to admire it. I kissed Bella's rosy cheek and complimented her on the festive décor she had created. My wife brought such a beautiful touch to our home. Domesticity had never been as magnificent as it was with her.

Esme had finished their tree during the night, so Bella and I went over that afternoon to see it. My mother served hot, spiced cider and more cookies, and I was tempted to sample them just to embrace the occasion. Carlisle chuckled at my whim. I settled for several deep inhalations of the beverage's exotic aroma.

Bella enjoyed the refreshments enough for both of us. The baby responded to them, as well, wriggling quite enthusiastically shortly after Bella finished eating. My wife suffered through a number of kicks with good humor, although I knew a few of them pained her. She recovered quickly, however, and enjoyed the carols I played upon my violin that evening.

On Christmas Eve, we visited the Webers, exchanging a few gifts with our friends. Then we all walked to the church for Reverend Joseph's service. While I did not attend church regularly, I was fond of the Josephs, as well as many other townspeople, and the thought of being among such convivial society held a certain appeal. Carlisle and Esme planned to meet us there.

Mrs. Joseph sat in the front pew, smiling in greeting as our small party entered. She began to stand, but I motioned for her to remain seated, and we all made our way to her. We exchanged greetings, and Carlisle and I both assessed her silently. She appeared well

We settled into a pew toward the back as other parishioners began to fill the church. The service was joyful, filled with carols and good cheer. Reverend Joseph made a special point of acknowledging the blessings that had entered his flock's lives in the past year, his gaze landing on the Webers, on Bella and me, and finally on his wife as he spoke.

After the service, we bid our friends and my parents good night then went home. Carlisle and Esme would join us in the morning, but this night was for Bella and me. We sat in the parlor, enjoying the tree and reminiscing about last Christmas. I felt certain that as long as I existed, that year's holiday would hold special meaning for me, as it was the day Bella had agreed to become my wife.

"But this Christmas will be very special, too," Bella said. "It's our first Christmas as a family."

I caressed her belly, feeling our child stir. "Yes," I agreed, my voice slightly rough with emotion.

"Just imagine next year," she continued, her eyes bright. She placed her hand over mine. "She'll be nearly one, toddling and laughing…"

"I can scarcely envision it," I replied softly. "I never dreamed I would have such a wonderful life."

We kissed each other tenderly, and I let my mind wander, hazy visions of a tiny girl with coppery hair sitting under the tree, ribbons in her little hands. Bella knelt beside her, hands outstretched yet oddly frozen, her skin alabaster and her eyes ruby red… I sucked in a breath. That was not the future I wanted. My mind had conjured the images in fear.

"Edward?" Bella questioned, her warm hand stroking my cheek. "What's the matter?"

I shook my head and tried to smile. "Nothing, love. It's just a little overwhelming sometimes."

She smiled gently. "I understand."

But she did not truly comprehend my fear. It was very rare that I imagined her in an immortal state. Why had that vision arisen now? Was there some reason my subconscious had forced that upon me? I took a few long moments to study my wife. I discerned nothing out of the ordinary. Still, I resolved to be even more aware of her condition.

Bella asked me to play my violin for her, her expression reflecting joy as she listened to the music. I allowed myself to become lost in the melodies, too, eschewing my darker thoughts, at least for the night.

* * *

><p>Bella was cheerful on Christmas morning, enjoying the breakfast that I prepared for her prior to my parents' arrival. Then she spent some time arranging gifts beneath the tree. Carlisle and Esme drove up just after 10:00, greeting us with hugs and affectionate wishes before Carlisle returned to the motorcar to gather up the gifts.<p>

Once he and Esme had placed them under the tree, Bella asked it they would mind waiting an hour or so to open them.

"I'd like to visit the farm," she explained, "and spend a few minutes with my father."

"Oh sweetheart," Esme replied, "of course. That's a lovely idea."

Bella nodded, relieved by the response. "I know you never met him, but if you'd like to come with us…"

Carlisle took her hand. "We would be honored," he said.

The weather was brisk again but clear. I was glad there was no precipitation; I did not want to risk Bella's getting a chill. We all climbed into the Cadillac, and I drove the familiar road out to the farm. Bella and I had not visited her former home in some time, but I stopped by whenever I was nearby to be certain the house was maintained and to keep Mr. Swan's gravesite tidy.

We all felt a bit nostalgic when we saw the small house and barn. My gaze wandered to the copse, where I had spent so many hours watching over Bella as she slept. I helped her from the automobile and kept my arm around her as we walked toward the small rise. I carried a little wreath in my hand, passing it to her when we reached the headstone. Bella knelt, placing the wreath against the stone.

I lifted her hand to kiss it then stepped back, giving her as much time with her father as she wished. Her head was bent, and I saw her lips moving but made a point not to listen to her words. They were for her father, not for me.

Carlisle and Esme came to stand beside me. My mother slipped her hand into mine.

When Bella began struggling to her feet several minutes later, I hurried to assist her. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes filled with tears. She embraced me as soon as she was standing.

"Are you all right?" I asked softly.

"Yes," she sniffled. "I'm glad I came."

We walked slowly down the rise. When we reached my parents, they told Bella that they wished to pay their respects to her father. She thanked them, then we continued to the house. Bella spent a little time moving from room to room, then she smiled up at me.

"I'm ready to go now," she said.

"Are you certain? There's no rush."

"Of course there is! We have presents to open!"

I chuckled. "Yes, we do."

* * *

><p>The afternoon passed pleasantly as we exchanged gifts, opening each at a leisurely pace. Bella received more presents than the rest of us, which embarrassed her. However, since many were for the baby, she did not protest too much. She received rattles, baby spoons, and books for our little one, and I could tell that she appreciated the sentiments behind them.<p>

Carlisle and Esme also gave Bella a beautiful cameo, the detail exquisite. I had chosen jewelry, too. Bella unwrapped a small box from me, finding a gold locket inside. I thought she might wish to place a lock of our baby's hair inside the heart. She was very touched.

After we had finished with the gifts, Bella had dinner. I wished my family and I could join her in dining, as I knew that holiday meals were special to humans. With only one person eating, Bella had not wanted to prepare anything elaborate, although Esme had offered to help her with a traditional supper. Although she did not express her thoughts, I understood that my wife had hoped until last week that her mother and Mr. Dwyer would join us, and a large meal would only remind her of their absence.

Bella remained in good spirits throughout the day. Esme's and Carlisle's presence always seemed to have a beneficial effect on her. Before daylight faded, Bella set up her camera and took several photographs, including one of all four of us. She was excited to have some family portraits to hang in the hallway and looked forward to adding another photograph within the next six weeks.

As afternoon slipped into evening, we visited in the parlor, enjoying the fragrant Christmas tree and crackling fire. By 7:00, however, Bella was growing fatigued. She had not taken an afternoon nap as she usually did, and her body missed the extra rest.

Carlisle and Esme offered a final round of holiday wishes, hugs, and kisses. Bella thanked them again for their gifts.

Carlisle took her hands and said with absolute sincerity, "Thank you for giving us the greatest gift of all."

Bella blushed and looked down at her belly. Carlisle lifted her chin. "We are all thrilled about the baby, but that's not what I'm talking about. You have given my son your love, and through that you have given him true life. Thank you, dear."

He kissed her cheek then pulled her into a gentle embrace. Bella was blinking back tears again. He offered her and me one final smile, then he and Esme left, both as content as I had ever seen them.

Bella and I stood at the window, watching them drive away. Finally she spoke.

"Edward, I… I didn't know what to say. That was so kind of Carlisle."

"Sweetheart, every word he said was true."

"I love them and feel so lucky to have them…" She looked up at me. "But most of all, I'm lucky to have you. I love you so much."

"No more than I love you. Merry Christmas, my angel."

Holding Bella in my arms-enjoying her warmth, her heartbeat, and the depth of her love-it was impossible to feel anything other than happiness. It was a joyful season indeed.

* * *

><p><em><strong><span>Note:<span>**_ _Christmas in October! Things are moving along, and I promise that the baby will arrive within the next few chapters. Thank you for your patience with me!_


	74. Chapter 74

Bella and I welcomed the New Year with quiet joy and happy anticipation. We watched the mantle clock in the parlor, waiting for the second hand to touch the twelve. At midnight, we shared a long, tender kiss full of the deepest affection.

"Happy New Year," I said when we finally drew apart.

"1912," Bella replied with a smile, "the year of our child's birth."

The thought thrilled me. In less than one month, we would welcome our baby into the world. Even now, this event seemed almost unbelievable. I would be a father… I shook my head in wonder.

Bella understood my thoughts. "I know," she murmured, stroking my cheek, "it's incredible."

* * *

><p>Bella and Esme spent the next week finishing the nursery and layette. When I arrived home on January 6, Bella took my hand and led me upstairs, a delighted grin on her beautiful face.<p>

"It's ready," she announced as we stepped into the nursery. "I think everything is finished."

I took in the details of the room: the pretty crib Esme had made; the rocking chair with its soft, hand-sewn cushions; the low chest of drawers for diapers and clothing; the blankets stacked neatly on a shelf; another shelf holding books and toys; a basin for bathing; and two charming watercolor paintings on the wall. I moved closer to inspect them. One depicted a meadow with rabbits frolicking; the other showed a nest with baby birds amid a flowering dogwood branch.

"Esme painted them," Bella explained, "and she brought them over this morning."

"They're perfect," I said.

"I love them," she agreed.

Esme returned that evening with Carlisle in tow. His eyes were twinkling with mirth as he kissed Bella's cheek and gave her belly a loving caress. Then Esme took her arm and mine and led us to the kitchen.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Just wait a moment," she replied with an inscrutable smile.

I was aware of Carlisle flashing back to the motorcar then darting into the house and up the stairs. Within a few seconds he stood in the kitchen doorway, offering his arm to Bella. She took it, and he escorted her upstairs. Esme wrapped an arm around my waist as we followed.

We stepped into the bedroom to find a cradle at the foot of our bed. It was wooden and detailed with exquisite carvings of flowers and birds on the headboard and footboard. It had been sanded and finished to a warm honey color. Inside were a finely crocheted blanket and a silk pillow.

Esme smiled tenderly. "You'll want to have the baby in here with you for the first few months."

"Oh!" Bella gasped, falling to her knees to run her hands over the satiny wood and soft fabrics. "This is beautiful." She looked up, her eyes bright. "Who made it?"

"We both did," Carlisle replied.

"It's gorgeous," she exhaled. "Thank you."

"Yes," I said, my voice thick, "thank you."

I embraced each of my parents then helped Bella to her feet so she could hug them, too. Now our preparations for the baby truly were complete.

* * *

><p>Over the next few days, the weather turned bitingly cold. Steel gray clouds hung low in the sky, shrouding the area in a frosty mist. Strong winds whipped through the barren trees and rattled the shutters. I encouraged Bella to remain inside, and she did not protest as long as I took care of Callie and Stanley.<p>

It was evening on January 9 when I heard a motorcar approaching. Bella had just finished her supper and was tidying up the kitchen. She enjoyed this task and insisted on completing it despite my repeated offers to do it for her. During the past week, I had noticed that she seemed particularly drawn to activities that involved cleaning and organizing. These chores left her content. As long as she did not over-exert herself, I permitted her to do light housework, always reminding her, however, that Esme or I were happy to help.

"Someone's coming," I informed Bella. She could not hear the growl of the engine over the wind.

"Really?" She looked out the window into the darkness. "I hope no one is injured or ill."

"I'll telephone Carlisle if that's the case," I assured her.

We walked to the door, and I peered out the small oval window. I was surprised to see Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer's automobile rumbling toward our house.

"It's your mother and Phil," I said with a small shake of my head.

"Oh! I didn't think they would even stop here on their way back… and even if they did, it wasn't supposed to be for another week."

I nodded. As the vehicle came to a stop, I could see the couple inside. Both appeared pale, and as they got out I noted that they moved rather stiffly and slowly, despite the unpleasant weather.

I opened the door as they stepped onto the porch. In the light, their fatigue was painfully evident. Their scents had hints of physical reactions to sustained anxiety, too.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer," I greeted, more perfunctorily than I intended.

They entered the house. Bella came forward to hug her mother and Phil. "We didn't expect you to return until next week," she said.

Phil ran a hand through his hair. Mrs. Dwyer slid her arm around his waist.

"We had to cut our trip short," she explained. "Phil's father is very ill."

"Oh dear," Bella said immediately. "I'm so sorry!"

Phil nodded. "Thank you. I'm sorry to impose upon you again, but we've been driving for almost two days straight. We'll head into town and get a room at the boarding house. We just needed to stop for a little while…"

"He's so tired he can't see straight," Mrs. Dwyer supplied. "He almost went off the road three times in the last hour." I was somewhat surprised that her tone was full of concern, not criticism.

The man clearly was exhausted. I glanced at Bella to see the worry written on her features.

"You'll stay here tonight," she said kindly yet firmly. "I have a pot of stew on the stove. You both need a good meal and a full night's sleep."

I nodded in agreement. Neither was in any condition to continue driving. My tone was more genial as I said, "Come and sit by the fire for a few minutes to get warm."

Phil appeared somewhat unsteady on his feet, so I took his arm and led him to the parlor. Bella walked behind us with her mother.

As I eased the man down in the chair nearest the hearth, I made a gentle inquiry. "If it's not too intrusive, may I ask what your father's illness is?" Perhaps providing him with information about the malady would ease Phil's mind somewhat.

"No—I appreciate your concern." He looked up at me. "He's had a stroke."

"When did it happen?"

"Three days ago. My mother wired us in San Francisco."

"Have you heard from her since then?"

"Yes. I asked her to send a telegram to Medford; we got it this morning as we passed through."

"What is his condition now?"

"She said he's hanging on." His voice nearly broke.

I placed a hand upon his shoulder. "That's a good sign. Would you like to try to reach your mother by telephone? I would be glad to speak with your father's physician if she can arrange it."

"Would you?" This simple offer appeared to alleviate some of his anxiety. "Thank you, Edward. I'd really appreciate that."

The next hour passed quickly as Bella heated the stew and prepared the guest room. Phil was able to telephone his mother, and by luck the family physician was at the house. I spoke with him then summarized his report for Phil.

"Your father has some paralysis on his left side, and his speech is affected. However, he has shown some small improvements over the past twenty-four hours, which bodes well for further healing. He's in no significant danger now."

Phil's relief at this news was almost palpable. "Thank God," he said. "I thought I'd never get to speak with him again, never get to tell him how much he means to me, how grateful I am to have him as a father."

His words touched me, evoking memories from my past as well as thoughts about Bella's future.

Phil and Mrs. Dwyer were both calm enough after the telephone call to eat fairly heartily. As usual, Mrs. Dwyer's attentions were focused primarily upon her husband. She barely acknowledged Bella when she set the bowls of stew on the table then brought mugs of hot cocoa. When she walked upstairs with Bella to place a few things in the guest room, I heard my wife pause in the hallway and say, "This is the nursery."

Mrs. Dwyer continued walking, simply responding with a bland, "Oh, that's nice."

I held my tongue, however, recognizing that the woman had been through a trying few days. Phil seemed slightly more energetic after the meal, so he and I went back to the parlor. Bella and Mrs. Dwyer joined us shortly, and Bella asked about the trip to San Francisco.

Mrs. Dwyer began recounting the events in great detail. Bella listened politely, but after about twenty minutes, she pressed a hand over her ribs, her lips a tight line. I could hear the increase in her heart rate. The baby often shifted into an awkward position in the evenings, but it was rare for Bella appear so uncomfortable.

I turned to her and asked softly, "Are you all right?"

She grimaced. "She's kicking really hard." Her lips pressed together again, and she swallowed back a little gasp. "Oh—right here."

"I'm going to take you upstairs," I said. "Lying down may help."

She nodded her acquiescence. Standing, I faced our house guests and said, "I hope you'll excuse us for a little while. Bella needs to lie down."

Phil appeared worried, and a flicker of concern crossed his wife's face, but she said nothing.

I lifted Bella into my arms, forcing myself to make the task appear difficult for the sake of the other humans in the room. I placed Bella upon our bed, helping her to roll onto her side and sliding pillows behind her back.

"Is that any better?" I asked.

"Maybe a little…"

I felt over her abdomen as carefully as possible. The baby was lying with its feet up under her ribs again. Our little one seemed to have a penchant for this particular position. I unbuttoned Bella's blouse and slid up her camisole, then I began to press my hands over the area hoping to encourage the baby to move. When I touched Bella, she gave a little gasp.

"I'm sorry, love, I know it's cold," I apologized.

"No," she panted slightly, "that's not it. It hurts."

"Here?" I questioned, easing back the pressure over her ribs.

She nodded. She touched my wrist, nudging my hand away. "Just give me a minute," she said. She was pale now.

Bella had never experienced this degree of pain from the baby's movements. This concerned me.

She exhaled slowly. "That was the hardest kick yet," she said. "Goodness."

"Has the pain eased?" I questioned.

"Not much," she sighed.

I rested my hands very gently over her abdomen again, lower this time to avoid her ribs. I felt no contractions, but the baby was shifting, and after a minute or so I could tell that the tiny body had turned.

"That's a little better," she reported. "But I feel like she bruised me from the inside." She winced as she touched her ribs gingerly.

"Let me see?" I requested, waiting for her to give me a nod.

As gently as possible I examined her ribs. I found no evidence of fracture but asked her to take several deep breaths. She complied, and I listened to the movement of air within her lungs. There was no sign of pulmonary damage.

"We need to keep her out of that position," I said, helping Bella to shift slightly so that she lay as comfortably as possible upon the bed.

"I'll try to be more aware," she replied. "It doesn't hurt quite as much now."

"I'm glad." I kissed her forehead. "Perhaps if I rest my hand over it, that will have a numbing effect."

She gave a node of consent, and I placed my palm very lightly over the sore area. After a few minutes she told me that it felt better.

"I think you should just remain here and try to get some sleep," I suggested. "It's after 9:00 anyway."

"I suppose…"

"I'm sure your mother and Phil will retire soon. They're both very tired, and I know they want to get an early start in the morning."

"All right. Tell them I said good night?"

"I will, love. I'll be up in a little while."

I removed her shoes and skirt then tucked a blanket around her. My steps were slow as I returned to the parlor, my thoughts churning. The little incident had shaken me. What if the baby had broken one of Bella's ribs? What would that mean for the delivery? At the very least, it would cause her additional pain. But what if it led to complications?

The possibilities bombarded me. What if a crisis arose, and I had to honor the anguishing promise I had made to my wife?

I thought of Phil and his distress over his father. Fortunately, he would have the chance to tell the man what lay in his heart. I hoped his father would reciprocate and share his deepest feelings with his son, too. Phil was a very decent fellow who deserved to know that his father loved him. My Bella deserved no less from her mother.

When I entered the parlor again, I was disappointed, yet unsurprised, that Phil was the one to ask about Bella.

"Is she okay?"

"I think so," I replied. "She's going to sleep, though, and wished you good night."

"I hope our barging in on you wasn't too hard on her," he said with an apologetic tone.

I shook my head. "No, it's fine."

Phil smiled tiredly, a yawn escaping him. "Sorry… I guess I'm pretty beat."

"You should go on up to bed, too," I encouraged.

"Yes, sweetie," Mrs. Dwyer echoed, "you're exhausted. You need to sleep."

Phil gave me a nod. "Good night, then."

"Sleep well," I replied.

Mrs. Dwyer began to follow him out of the parlor, but I caught her arm. Her complete lack of interest in her daughter's condition was the final straw. I would be silent no longer.

"Wait a moment, please," I said. "I'd like to speak with you."

Phil glanced back, his expression appearing almost relieved, then he nodded and increased his pace.

Mrs. Dwyer was frowning. "What is it, Edward? My husband needs me."

"I'm sure he'll be fine for a few minutes," I replied. Frostily, I asked, "Did it never occur to you that your daughter might need you, too?"

She gaped at me, appearing at a loss for words.

I continued. "You didn't even ask if she was all right."

"You said she was," she retorted mildly.

"Yes, when your _husband_ asked. If he hadn't, would you have even bothered?"

"I…I'm not sure I know what you mean." Her expression showed that she knew precisely what I meant.

"You have shown no interest at all in the baby. You barely even acknowledge that Bella is expecting. Do you have any idea how much that hurts her?"

"Bella's always been an independent girl," she rejoined. "She doesn't need me fussing over her. Besides, she has you now. I know you take good care of her."

"I do. And so do my parents. But that doesn't mean she wouldn't appreciate—I daresay even relish—a few kind words from you every now and again. She thinks you don't care about her or the baby. She is carrying your grandchild. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

To my considerable surprise, Mrs. Dwyer's eyes filled with tears. "She thinks I don't care?"

"Yes. Quite frankly, so do I, and so does everyone else who sees you with her."

She swallowed. "I didn't realize…" She pressed a hand over her lips.

My tone softening, I said, "A few words, Mrs. Dwyer. That's all I'm asking. It would mean a great deal to her, more than you can imagine, I think."

She remained silent for several long seconds, and when she spoke again I heard contrition in her voice. "There are reasons, Edward…"

"Then tell her. Help her to understand." I placed my hands upon her shoulders. "Please, Mrs. Dwyer, give her a little peace of mind; help her to feel calm and content during these last few weeks before the baby comes."

"Is she…" Her eyes flicked to the staircase. "Can I speak with her now?"

"I think that would be fine."

I watched as she walked upstairs slowly. While I was not in the habit of eavesdropping on private conversations, I felt I needed to monitor this particular one in case Bella began to feel upset. I would stop her mother immediately if her words were in any way distressing to my wife.

I stood very still as Mrs. Dwyer knocked gently at the doorway and asked if she could come in.

"Oh… yes, of course," Bella replied softly. "Are you going to bed now?"

"In a few minutes."

"I'm sorry I didn't come back down. Edward thought I should just rest for the remainder of the night."

"It's all right, Bella." I heard a slight rustle of fabric; Mrs. Dwyer had moved toward the bed. "How are you feeling?"

I heard the surprise in my wife's tone. "I'm fine. The baby just gave me a really hard kick, the hardest one she's ever given."

"You were quite a kicker, too."

"I was?"

Mrs. Dwyer chuckled lowly. "Oh yes. You didn't do it often, but when you did, it was with force."

"I'm sorry," Bella almost giggled.

"So, you think it's a girl?"

"I do."

"What does Edward think?"

"A boy, most likely. But we'll be happy either way."

"Of course you will."

There were several seconds of silence. I wondered what Bella was thinking…

Then her mother spoke again. "Bella, I… I want to explain something to you. I was just a girl when I married your father—nearly four years younger than you—and we had you right away. I felt like I went from being a child to being a wife and mother almost over night. I had so many dreams, so many things I wanted to do with my life. But here, in this little town, all I could expect was to marry and have children. So I did."

"I know you were never happy here," Bella said softly.

"It's true. I thought Boise would be more exciting, more cosmopolitan, and I suppose to some extent it was… But I had responsibilities. Even though you were very independent, very smart and capable, I was still your mother, and I couldn't very well leave while you were still a girl."

"I know."

"And I was still married, too, at least legally. Your father and I were worlds apart. You know that we could never have reconciled, right?" She waited a few beats. "I know that you weren't happy with me when I accepted Phil's marriage proposal." I heard Bella take a breath in preparation for speaking, but her mother continued. "No, just let me finish. I knew when you moved back here that you truly didn't need me anymore, that you were a grown woman capable of taking care of yourself. And I suppose there was something freeing about that. I know I'm not a girl anymore, but I'm not an old woman, either, and Phil—he sees me as the girl I want to be. I just wanted a chance to do some of those things I'd always dreamed about, things Phil wanted to do, too."

"I understand," Bella said. I could hear the emotion in her voice.

"Do you really? I'm not very proud of this, Bella, but some part of me knew that I…" She paused; it was clear that the next part was difficult for her to say. "I couldn't very well be a girl with a married daughter, even less so with a grandchild on the way. But honey, I do love you, and I'm happy for you. You have a wonderful, smart, successful husband and a really nice family here, and soon you'll have a little baby girl or boy. You have a good life."

"I do," Bella agreed tearily.

"And that's not the life for me, but I realize it's what you want. I'm not the doting type—you know that—but maybe you'll send me a photograph of the baby, and in a few months, when you're feeling settled, I can come and visit for a few days."

"I'd like that," Bella said softly.

I heard the sound of fabric swishing and knew that the two women were embracing. Bella's breathing was uneven with suppressed sobs, but I could tell that she was not upset.

"Well, I suppose we could both use some sleep," Mrs. Dwyer said. "I'll see you in the morning." Her steps echoed lightly as she crossed the room. "Good night."

"Good night, Mother," Bella replied.

As Mrs. Dwyer passed the staircase, she glanced down to see me at the foot of the stairs. I mouthed a silent "thank you" to her, and she gave me a nod, whispering the same words back to me.

I waited a few minutes then returned to Bella's and my room. My wife was wiping her eyes, but her expression showed that she was content. I sat down beside her and gave her a tender kiss.

"Did you hear?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied, giving her a lopsided grin of apology.

Then I opened my arms to her, and she snuggled into my embrace. I stroked her hair and back, and I felt her body relax further. She was very tired from the night's unexpected activity and emotion.

"Sleep, my love," I murmured.

She did, and her slumber was sound and dreamless. Because we had house guests, I needed to spend the entire night in bed with my wife on the off chance that Mrs. Dwyer or Phil would come to our room. Really, it was no sacrifice at all. I loved lying beside her and listening to the lovely sound of two steadily beating hearts.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	75. Chapter 75

I heard the Dwyers stirring just before dawn. I knew that Phil was anxious to return to Boise as soon as possible. Sliding out of bed, I moved across the room and slipped out the door without making a sound. I wanted Bella to sleep as long as possible.

I went downstairs and lit lamps in the dining room and kitchen, then I began making coffee. I was unsure what Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer would want for breakfast, so I removed some eggs from the icebox and a loaf of bread from the cabinet. I did not wish to wake Bella, so I hoped these items would suffice.

About fifteen minutes later, the couple came downstairs to join me in the kitchen. Both gratefully accepted mugs of coffee from me. I had a half-empty one beside me already.

Our conversation was quiet and subdued in the early gray light, but I felt no animosity from Mrs. Dwyer.

Eggs and toast seemed an acceptable breakfast to them, so I scrambled a half dozen eggs and sliced bread to place in the oven. Bella was still sleeping when the meal was finished, so I suggested that Mrs. Dwyer might say good-bye to her in the bedroom. She agreed, and we went upstairs while Phil got the bags and prepared the car, telling us to give Bella his thanks and regards.

I opened the bedroom door and walked toward the bed, speaking softly to Bella as I stroked her cheek. She began to stir, her eyelids fluttering open. She blinked up at me sleepily.

"Mmm, Edward…"

I kissed her brow then said, "Darling, your mother and Phil are leaving. She wanted to say good-bye."

Mrs. Dwyer came to stand beside me as Bella began to sit up. "Don't get up," her mother said, bending to give her a quick embrace.

"I should see you off," Bella protested mildly.

Mrs. Dwyer shook her head. "No, no, you should stay right here where it's warm and comfy. Phil asked me to thank you and tell you good-bye."

"Please tell him that I'll keep his father in my thoughts," Bella said. "I'm so sorry he's ill, but I'm glad you came. It was good to see you."

"You too, honey," Mrs. Dwyer said. "You take care of yourself… and that baby." Then she gave me a nod and bustled out of the room.

"Go back to sleep," I advised, pulling the blankets over Bella again. "It's still very early."

"All right." She settled back amongst the pillows.

I returned downstairs to see the Dwyers off, asking that they either telephone or send a telegraph to let us know they had arrive safely and to keep up informed of the senior Mr. Dwyer's condition. They thanked me again then drove away.

The morning was very chilly, and clouds hung low in the sky. The wind was picking up. I hoped they would not have to face significant rain or snow during the remainder of their trip.

I made sure that the house was secure and warm before Bella arose. When I heard her go into the bathroom, I knew she was fully awake. I began to prepare her breakfast.

"Edward?" she called softly. Her tone of voice spurred me to dash up the stairs.

She stood before the mirror in our room, her hands cupped beneath her belly.

"What is it, love?" I asked.

"It feels and looks a little different," she replied.

I placed my hands over her abdomen, moving them down slowly. With a smile, I told her, "The baby has dropped."

"That's what I thought, but I wasn't sure."

"That means she's getting ready for her big journey."

"It'll still be a couple of weeks, though?"

I nodded. "Yes. This typically happens two or three weeks before the birth. How does it feel?"

"Better, actually. I can breathe more easily, and there's less pressure beneath my ribs."

I rested my fingers very lightly over the sore spot. "Is this still tender?"

"A little. But it feels much better than it did last night."

I kissed her cheek. "I'm glad. Do you feel like breakfast now?"

She grinned. "Absolutely. I'm hungrier than ever!"

I helped her into her robe and slippers, then we walked downstairs together. We were at the foot of the stairs when I picked up my parents' scents. They were approaching the house.

"Esme and Carlisle are here," I said.

They often stopped by in the morning before Carlisle went to the office. Esme had found Bella much more receptive to her help with chores if she simply showed up rather than telephoning to ask if there was anything my wife needed.

Bella smiled automatically, then her pretty brow furrowed as her glance moved downward. "I should put on some clothes," she said.

She had slept later than usual; she was almost always dressed by this time.

"It's all right," I assured her. "Esme certainly won't mind, nor will Carlisle. You won't want to put on anything other than a fresh nightgown after you have the baby, so this won't be the only time you're in your dressing gown when they visit."

Her cheeks colored slightly, but she gave me a little nod.

"It's very cold out this morning," I added. "Why don't you wait in the kitchen where it's nice and warm?"

She shuffled off while I admitted my parents. After our usual cordial greetings, I told them about our unexpected visitors last night.

"Is Bella all right?" Carlisle asked immediately, cocking his head slightly to listen for her.

"She was tired after she and her mother spoke, but I think she's feeling rested this morning," I replied.

"I'll be sure she doesn't have to life a finger today," Esme promised.

"Thank you," I said, hugging her. "I was just about to prepare her breakfast."

We all walked to the kitchen. Bella was at the stove heating water for tea. She turned to us with a warm smile.

"Good morning," Esme said, flitting forward to kiss her cheek.

"Good morning," Bella replied.

"How are you feeling today, dear?" Carlisle inquired, assessing her with a critical eye.

"Pretty good," she began. She rested a hand over her abdomen, drawing his attention to her slightly altered appearance.

He gave me a questioning glance, to which I affirmed, "The baby has dropped."

He was before Bella in an instant, lifting his hands. "May I?" he asked.

"Of course," she said.

His hands moved gently over her abdomen. After a few moments, he began to smile. "It looks like things are progressing just as they should. It won't be long now."

"Edward thinks two more weeks," Bella said.

Carlisle nodded. "I think the baby will be born right on schedule."

Esme was beaming. I knew she was almost as excited about the birth as I was. While she would not be in attendance, she hoped to be nearby so that she could join us as soon as Carlisle and I had cleaned up thoroughly.

"Are you feeling any more comfortable?" he asked Bella.

"I am. The pressure has shifted, but my ribs feel better."

"She got a really hard kick last night," I explained, "right beneath her ribcage."

Carlisle gave me a brief yet concerned look at this news. Bella did not miss it.

"Edward checked," she informed my father, "and nothing is broken. It's just a little sore now."

"Well, that's a relief," Esme said, squeezing Bella's hand gently. "Sit down, sweetheart, and let me finish your tea and make some breakfast for you. I understand you had an extra busy evening. You let me take care of you this morning."

Bella had learned not to fight my mother when it came to pampering, so she acquiesced without objection. She ate her breakfast then went upstairs to dress. She and I had planned to visit Mrs. Withers today, and she still wished to go.

* * *

><p>I made sure Bella was bundled up before we got into the Cadillac to drive into town. Esme had returned home, and Carlisle had gone ahead to open the office. I would join him after seeing Mrs. Withers and escorting Bella safely home.<p>

Helen admitted us to Mrs. Withers' house. She reported that her mother-in-law was very weak but had managed to sip some broth earlier in the day.

"I told her you were coming," she said, "and she had a few more sips."

I smiled sympathetically. Caring for her mother-in-law had taken a toll on Helen. I could see more gray in her hair and more lines around her eyes and mouth. She was a kind woman to devote herself to the task so willingly.

Mrs. Withers was sleeping as we entered the bedroom, but she stirred when Bella touched her frail hand. She blinked up at us then smiled tiredly.

"Dr. Cullen," she said weakly, "and Bella."

Bella held her hand tenderly while I performed a brief examination. Really, it was unnecessary; I could assess her condition with my eyes and ears alone. But I knew I needed to go through the motions for Helen's sake.

Mrs. Withers lay patiently, her eyes upon Bella. When I had finished, she fixed her hazy gaze upon me and said, "You send your father next time. You need to take care of your wife."

"I'm fine," Bella began, but the elderly woman cut her off.

"That baby is coming soon. You rest up, dear. You'll want your strength." She coughed weakly; I could hear the fluid in her lungs.

"Ssh," I soothed, "don't try to talk, Mrs. Withers. Just relax. I'm planning to take very good care of Bella. Don't you worry about that."

"Not worried," she wheezed, "just don't need… two doctors, 'specially… when one's got a much more… important patient."

"She needs to rest now," I mouthed to Bella.

We both kissed Mrs. Wither on the cheek and told her that she would be in our thoughts. As I stood, she gripped my wrist feebly. "Take care… of them," she whispered almost fiercely.

"I will," I assured her.

Her eyes closed before we were at the door. Helen understood that her mother-in-law had very little time left; I did not need to tell her about the woman's condition. Instead I wished her well and, as always, encouraged her to send for either Carlisle or me at any time if she felt she needed us. She thanked me and returned good wishes for Bella.

Bella waited until we were in the car to speak again. "How long?" she asked simply.

I reached for her hand. "A few days at best," I answered honestly. The woman had astonished me with her tenacity, but even the strongest will could not stop a severely damaged heart from failing.

Her eyes filled with tears. "She won't see the baby."

"I'm afraid not."

She nodded, accepting my words sadly.

"I'll ask Carlisle to stop in to see her tonight," I said gently. "He'll be sure she's as comfortable as possible."

"Yes," she sniffled; I knew she was touched by the deep compassion and care he always showed Mrs. Withers.

Rain began to fall as we drove home. I was surprised it was not snowing; the weather was frigid. The wind was picking up, too. I hoped once again that Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer were not in the storm's path.

After I made sure that Bella was settled and comfortable at home, I returned to town. The office was quiet, with only one patient in the afternoon. It was just as well; the weather left me feeling unsettled, and I was eager to return to Bella.

Carlisle and I closed the office, and he drove toward Mrs. Withers' house, while I headed home. I found Bella at the stove, cooking soup. Her cheeks were rosy, and she was in fairly good spirits.

I think we were both relieved that the baby's change in position kept it from pushing against Bella's ribs that night. She was relatively comfortable, and she slept fairly well. I was grateful that the events of the last twenty-four hours were not weighing too heavily upon her.

* * *

><p>The next morning the weather was dreadful. The rain had turned to sleet, and harsh winds tore through the leafless trees and rattled the windowpanes. Bella seemed slightly on edge, although she assured me that she felt fine.<p>

"It's just the storm," she said. "It's a bad one."

"It is," I agreed. "I'm going to call Carlisle and see if he minds working alone today."

As expected, my father had no objection to my remaining at home with my wife. Bella and I spent the day quietly, reading and talking, as the storm raged outside.

Carlisle telephoned late in the afternoon to inform me that Helen Withers had summoned him. He believed that Mrs. Withers would pass away that night.

"Helen is pretty upset," he added. "I'm going to ask Esme to come and sit with her. She shouldn't be alone."

Esme's presence was always calming and comforting. I was grateful that Carlisle had thought to call her. He assured me that he would remain with Mrs. Withers as long as needed and do whatever he could to ease her passing.

"Thank you, Carlisle," I finished.

I hung up, surprised to see Bella standing right behind me. "Is this… it?" she asked shakily.

I nodded and wrapped her in my arms. "Carlisle and Esme will be with her and Helen."

"That's good." Her body shook softly.

"Come and sit down, love," I said.

I took her to the settee, tucking a blanket around her and stoking the fire. After a little while, she began to doze. I made sure she was warm enough then went to the kitchen to heat some soup for her. When I heard her heart rate and breathing increase, I thought she was waking. A few little whimpers alerted me to the return of her sobs. Mrs. Withers was clearly in her thoughts. I gave the soup another stir then walked back to the parlor.

I was surprised to find Bella sitting up, her hands wrapped around her belly. She was pale, and tears shone in her eyes.

"Shh, love, it's all right," I assuaged. "She's had a very long, very good life."

Bella shook her head, her lips pressed into a tight line. She swallowed then spoke. "No… that's not it."

"Hmm?" I questioned, momentarily distracted by the ferocity of the storm. The windows shook again with a powerful gust, and I felt cold air seeping into the room.

"Edward," Bella said tightly, looking down at her belly, "it _hurts_."

Instantly alert to my wife's condition, I was kneeling before her, my hands feeling over her womb. Her uterus was hard; she was having a contraction.

"Describe it to me," I said.

"It's like pressure, hard pressure, different than I've ever felt before."

"Like menstrual cramps?"

"Somewhat, but stronger."

"Is this the first one you've had today?"

"I had a few earlier, but they didn't really hurt like this one so I assumed they were false labor… I think I had a more painful one while I was sleeping; I dreamed that the baby kicked me right here." She rested her hand lightly over her pelvis.

My senses were finely attuned to her. I inhaled carefully, catching a hint of amniotic fluid.

"I think your waters are about to break," I told her.

I lifted her into my arms and darted to the bathroom. When she felt the liquid begin to trickle, Bella's eyes widened. We waited until the rush of fluid ceased, then I helped her to remove her clothes and put on a nightgown. She had two more contractions before we left the bathroom.

When the pain passed, I carried her to the bed. In a few minutes' time I had examined her further, confirming what my senses had already told me. I had not expected this today; there had been no signs, unless I had missed them. I looked up from the foot of the bed, my brow very tight.

"Bella," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "you're fully effaced and about seventy-five percent dilated."

She blinked at me. Things were happening very quickly, and her mind was struggling to process the significance of the events.

"Does that mean…" she began.

I nodded. "The baby is coming—soon."

She reached for my hand, grasping it firmly, and then she smiled tremulously. "The baby is coming," she repeated.

I spared a moment to kiss her tenderly, then I stood. "I need to telephone Carlisle."

Her expression reflected distress, and I thought she was having another contraction. This would make them approximately six minutes apart…

"Mrs. Withers needs him," she said, tears filling her eyes.

I placed my hand lightly upon her belly to find it soft. "You need him more, love," I replied, rubbing my thumb over the taut, warm skin. Gently, I added, "Mrs. Withers would want it this way."

She knew I was right. Her mind was filling with questions and concerns, which I would address shortly. At the moment, however, my priority was summoning my father. I pulled a blanket over Bella then hurried downstairs to the telephone.

Mrs. Withers did not have a telephone, so I would need to call the Webers and ask them to send Carlisle. I lifted the receiver and waited for the familiar crackle. I heard nothing. I jiggled the cradle and tried again, but the line was dead. With a sinking feeling, I realized that the heavy winds must have damaged some of the telephone wires.

I heard Bella gasp as her heart rate increased. She was having another contraction. I checked my watch as I hastened upstairs again. My wife's face was pale, her small hands clasping the blanket. I helped her to roll onto her left side, which seemed to ease her discomfort slightly.

When the contraction ceased, she looked up at me. "Did you reach him?"

"No. Apparently the telephone lines are down."

Her eyes moved to the window for a few seconds, then back to me. She grasped my hand, her gaze penetrating. "This wasn't supposed to happen for another two weeks," she said. I understood her unspoken question.

"It doesn't mean that anything is wrong, darling," I replied, trying to sound as earnest as possible. "Babies sometimes come a little early."

"But she's still so small."

"Not necessarily. Your measurements have been very good these last few weeks, and we know she's strong."

"Do you really think she'll be all right?"

I kissed her cheek. "I think that both she and you will be just fine."

My words hid my fear. While it was true that babies born several weeks early could be healthy, I did not know if this would be the case for my own child. Bella's labor had come on suddenly, and it was progressing quickly. This did not necessarily mean that anything was amiss, but it was somewhat atypical for a first-time mother. I needed Carlisle's calm competence and unparalleled expertise.

I hated the thought of leaving Bella, but I had no other choice. I could run into town in a few minutes' time and probably have Carlisle back here within fifteen minutes… unless he had left Mrs. Withers' home already. Adding on an additional ten minutes to get to his house then home again—unless he had been summoned elsewhere—I would be gone half an hour at most.

I hoped fervently that I would find my father still in town. Thirty minutes away from Bella felt like an eternity. A great deal could happen in that span of time, too. She would most certainly suffer through several more contractions. Worse, if she were to hemorrhage, or if the baby were in distress, she would be alone… Yet what other choice did I have?

"Edward?" Bella questioned, watching my expression closely. "What's the matter? Do you sense something?"

"No," I replied quickly. "I'm going to get Carlisle. I shouldn't be gone long at all—"

"No!" she cried softly.

"Darling, I need him here."

"Please, Edward, don't leave me alone." Her eyes filled with tears again.

I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. "Your contractions are still six minutes apart, and you aren't fully dilated yet. That means we still have a little time." I lifted her hand to kiss it.

I felt her fingers begin to squeeze mine before I realized she was having another contraction. Slightly alarmed, I glanced at the clock. The last contraction had been less than four minutes ago. Her labor was progressing very fast.

Fear began to overcome her. She shook with quiet sobs, and I pulled her into my arms. I could not leave Bella now.

"Sshh, love, it's all right. I'm staying right here with you. I won't leave you alone."

She drew her legs up in an effort to ease the pain. "Promise me?" she whispered.

"Yes, I promise." I kissed her damp temple.

She reached up to touch my cheek. "No, Edward… the promise you made me in October."

Our gazes met, and in her eyes I saw the depth of her love, both for me and for our child. I could not lose her, and I would not deny her the chance to know our son or daughter. I gave her a single nod and murmured, "I promise."

I was not religious creature, but a silent entreaty reverberated through my mind. _Please, please keep Bella well. Give me the knowledge and skill I need and, if that should fail, help me find the strength to do the unimaginable. _

* * *

><p><em>To be continued very soon! <em>


	76. Chapter 76

_Note:_ I apologize for failing to respond to reviews for the last chapter. I was very anxious to get the next part finished, so I hope you will forgive me for focusing upon that. I truly enjoyed every one of your thoughtful comments and interesting feedback for Chapter 75! Thank you to all who reviewed. Now, without further ado, let's meet that baby!

* * *

><p>Bella's contractions grew stronger and more frequent over the next hour. I encouraged her to move about, holding her hand or touching her back as she walked along the hallway. Several times she went into the nursery to fold a few more items or tidy an immaculate shelf. While she was thus occupied, I prepared the equipment and supplies I would need, working swiftly so that she could hold my hand and feel my caresses as each new contraction struck.<p>

I checked the baby's orientation several times, relieved that our little one remained in the occiput anterior position, with the head down and back to the right of Bella's stomach. This would make it easier for him or her to engage, an event which was fast approaching.

I monitored the infant's heartbeat constantly, noting every small change. For the most part, it remained steady and strong, and I heard nothing to cause me significant concern. Bella's pulse varied as her pain peaked and ebbed, but thus far she was not experiencing any real difficulties. I hoped this boded well for the rest of the delivery.

Bella was fully dilated by 11:00. She did not wish to be on her feet anymore, so I tried to keep her as comfortable as possible on the bed. The contractions were very painful now, each lasting two or three minutes, and she was left trembling and ashen as each subsided. The baby had descended into her pelvis, progressing just as it should. Still, I remained vigilant for any signs of trouble.

As anticipated at this stage, the towels beneath her had several crimson spots on them. Bella had not noticed the discharge, but as another powerful contraction struck, she gripped my hand fiercely, sitting up in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. She moaned, growing even paler as she saw the evidence of blood on the towels.

I heard her begin to retch and reached for the bowl I had set on the night table, supporting her shoulders as she vomited. I hoped my cool hand resting over her neck would soothe her.

When she finished, she was trembling. "The blood…" she stammered.

"It's all right, love," I reassured her, wiping her face with a damp cloth. "That's normal."

There would be more, but I did not tell her this. Once she had lain back against the pillows again, I changed the towels then wrapped her in my arms as we awaited the next contraction.

My eyes moved to the dark, icy window as I sent another silent plea for Carlisle. Bella was doing as well as could be expected, and she would deliver the baby within the hour. But what then? Was I strong enough to bring my child into the world, experiencing the pain he or she would inevitably endure during this journey? How long could I touch the infant before my mind began to falter?

"Edward!" she cried, clasping my hand again.

I pressed kisses over her eyelids and brow, murmuring words of love and support as she groaned softly. When the contraction ended, she shifted, beginning to push herself up onto her elbows.

"Here, darling, let me help," I offered.

"I feel like I want to push," she said.

The baby's head had entered the birth canal. Still, it was better for Bella if she could permit her body to do most of the work. The contractions would continue to move the baby along. Pushing too soon could be dangerous for my wife.

"You need to wait a little longer," I told her.

Her brow was deeply furrowed, but she gave me a nod of consent. She endured several more contractions, pressing her lips together and gripping my hands to fight the urge to bear down.

Finally the baby was in position for Bella provide help with the delivery. Positioning myself at her feet, I said, "You can push when you feel you need to." I kissed her knee and said, "I love you, Bella."

"I love you, too," she responded hoarsely, then she grimaced and panted, "Now?"

"Yes, love, now."

I had always admired my delicate wife's strength, but now I was in awe of her. She pushed with each new contraction, never crying out even as tears rolled down her cheeks. Her skin was slick with sweat, and her small hands clutched at the sheets, but she persevered.

I tried to provide whatever support I could, repeating my feelings for her and telling her how well she was doing. But in the end, she was the one who had to accomplish this monumental task. Unless complications arose, I could do little to help her.

I wiped away the blood and fluids as much as possible to keep her from becoming more nauseated. I offered her small sips of cool water when she felt thirsty, and I pressed a damp cloth over her cheeks and brow when the perspiration trickled into her eyes. These gestures felt so small, but they were all I could offer.

Bella had been bearing down intermittently for nearly an hour when she hissed in pain. Beneath the flush of exertion, she blanched. "It stings," she panted.

I looked down once again to see the baby's scalp. I could not help the grin that spread over my face.

"Darling, I can see the head," I said. The little heartbeat remained strong; the baby was faring well.

She blinked through the tears. "Really?" she gasped.

"Yes. It won't be long now." Hoping to prevent her from tearing, I instructed gently, "Don't push for few minutes. Try to relax and let your body stretch naturally."

"But she's… so close," she huffed.

I rested my hand over her abdomen. "I know."

As Bella lay still, breathing as evenly as possible, I attempted to gather my mental strength. Very soon I would hold the baby's head in my hands, touching the newborn's flesh, feeling whatever the tiny body felt. I found myself inhaling and exhaling along with Bella, using her rhythm to keep myself calm.

Finally I grasped her hand and said, "Now, love. You can begin pushing again."

She gave me a nod and a watery smile then took a breath and bore down. I watched in fascination as the top of the baby's head began to push out of my wife's body.

"She's crowning," I murmured in wonder.

Bella's hand moved down to touch the top of the baby's head. "Oh my," she whispered, then she steeled herself and gave another firm push.

I saw the infant's forehead, then the eyes as Bella continued her labors. I ceased breathing when the miniscule nose appeared. Our child was nearly here. Finally my professional instincts returned, and I reached for a damp cloth to clean the mucous gently from the baby's nostrils.

Bella took a deep breath then pushed again, and the head emerged fully. I cupped the diminutive skull in one hand while I swept a finger inside the tiny mouth to be certain it was clear of fluid, then I felt around the neck in case the umbilical cord was wrapped around it. Fortunately the baby's airways were unobstructed. The flutter of the infant's pulse tickled my fingers as the small head turned and the shoulders rotated.

"Just another few pushes," I told Bella.

She was exhausted but excited as she saw our child's face. She nodded, gathering some secret reserve of strength, then pushed again. Now I cradled the little head in my palm, listening to both my wife's and child's heartbeats. A feeling of utter astonishment swept through me, and I struggled to maintain my focus upon my task.

Bella continued to work to bring our child fully into the world. Soon the right shoulder emerged, then the left, and finally the torso. I eased the legs from Bella's body as she gave one final push.

And then I was holding my child in my hands. My gaze moved over the infant, a grin spreading across my face. My wife, as usual, had been right.

"She's perfect," I said, lifting the baby so that Bella could see her.

Bella gasped in delight. "A little girl," she said.

My own happiness multiplied when our daughter took her first breath then gave a small cry. She spent some moments exercising her lungs, and I was infinitely pleased to hear the steady movement of the air as she inhaled and exhaled. I wiped a soft cloth over her tiny body then placed her upon Bella's stomach.

While I severed the umbilical cord, Bella's hand automatically rose to caress the infant's delicate cheeks and chest. Then her fingers moved over every inch of the little body as I assured her that our daughter was perfect.

Bella lifted her gaze to me and asked softly, "Are you all right?"

I required several seconds to answer her question. I was elated and relieved and bursting with joy. My thoughts were somewhat scattered, but this was due to my ebullience, not a response to pain. I realized I had felt little from the baby as I touched her and held her during her birth.

Cautiously I rested my fingertips over my daughter's cheek. A slight sensation of coolness crept over me, but it was muted, almost hazy.

"She's cold," I murmured, "but I can barely feel it." I reached for a soft blanket and placed it over the baby.

"Really?" Bella asked, tears in her eyes once again.

"Yes." I smiled shakily.

I was not entirely convinced that the baby shared her mother's unique make-up, but it appeared that there were some similarities. I would remain cautious, however, until I had further evidence to support my supposition. At the moment, I needed to take care of my wife.

Bella delivered the afterbirth without difficulty, barely aware of my actions as I checked to be certain her uterus had contracted, then began cleaning up. Her attention was entirely focused on our beautiful baby girl. My gaze fixed upon our daughter repeatedly, and at every opportunity I touched her fingers, her toes, and her cheeks.

Once I was assured that Bella was safe, I prepared a warm bath and gently bathed the baby. Now that my emotions were slightly more settled, I attended to the physical sensations accompanying my actions. I could feel the warmth of my daughter's skin and the pulsing of her blood through her tiny veins, but I felt little else.

As I dried her, I examined her carefully. She was small, about five pounds six ounces, but she appeared healthy. Her color was good, her little heart beat steadily, and her lungs functioned well. Once she was dry, I managed to place a diaper on her. As I was inserting the final pin, my fingers against her leg, I felt a slight tightness deep in my stomach. It was just a faint twinge, much less than I would experience if I touched another human who needed to eat. I wrapped the infant in a blanket to return her to Bella.

"I think she's hungry," I said. "Would you like to try nursing her?

Bella's exhaustion was creeping over her, but her eyes lit up as she nodded. "Oh yes, of course."

I unbuttoned the top of her nightdress and opened it. After placing a pillow on her lap to support her arm, I settled the baby at her breast. Our daughter's tiny mouth opened, and soon she was nursing.

Bella and I both watched our daughter adoringly. I stroked the coppery hair, noting how like mine it was in color. Bella touched the button nose and ran her fingertip over the fine eyebrows. The little girl's features were much like her mother's. I wondered whether her eyes would be brown or if she might share the greenish-blue shade from my human life. Whatever characteristics she might have, it was clear to me that the child Bella and I had created shared Bella's humanity.

"She's a little bit of both of us," Bella said softly.

"She is," I agreed.

As the baby finished nursing, Bella's eyelids began to droop. She needed to sleep; she was extremely fatigued. I eased the baby from her arms and set her in the cradle, which I had moved to the side of the bed so that Bella could see it easily.

I helped my wife change into a clean nightgown and checked again to ensure that she was recovering as she should. Then I tucked the covers around her and kissed her tenderly.

"Sleep now, love," I said. "I'll be right here, watching over both of you."

"You'll wake me if she needs me?" Her words were slightly slurred; she was already half-asleep.

"Of course," I assured her.

Then I sank down onto the floor, sitting with one hand lightly clasping Bella's wrist while the other rested over my daughter's downy head. I sat without moving for a long time, enjoying the most wondrous sight in the world: my wife and child sleeping.

* * *

><p><em><strong>To be continued.<strong>.. _

_I hope readers will grant me some poetic license with this chapter. I wanted to focus more upon the emotions than the actual birth. If I skipped over any details that you felt were important, please forgive me. Next chapter will see the baby meeting her grandparents... and you will find out her name! Any guesses? _


	77. Chapter 77

As dawn approached, the storm began to wane. Bella and the baby still slept, both exhausted from the birth. I watched them carefully, making certain that neither was experiencing any difficulties. Mother and child appeared well.

_Mother._ I repeated the word to myself over and over, fascinated to think of my wife in this capacity. I knew she would be wonderful. She already adored our daughter beyond words, as did I.

When the fact that I was now a father truly struck me, I sat agape for several minutes. Our little girl would call me "Papa." I was her _father_. I hoped I would live up to the title.

I lowered my head to the cradle and whispered very softly, "I promise to cherish you, to protect you and keep you safe, to teach you and help you grow."

My daughter's tiny mouth moved, and one little hand curled into a fist. I touched her cheek very lightly, not wishing to chill her. She seemed comfortable, but she would need to eat fairly soon.

As wan, gray light began to seep into the room, I realized that the wind had subsided. A thin layer of ice covered the windowpane, but the morning felt calm. Still, something caught my ears, and after a few seconds of listening intently, I realized that I heard distant voices.

Less than a minute later I identified them as belonging to Carlisle and Esme. They were approaching the house. Relief rushed through me. While Bella and the baby seemed well, I was anxious for my father's opinion on the matter. More than that, though, I could not wait to share our wonderful news.

I stood, and, despite my excitement, I hesitated several moments, loath to leave my wife and child alone. I waited until I heard the soft knock at the door to dart downstairs. I opened the door, grinning widely.

Carlisle took in my appearance and was immediately concerned. I realized that I had not done more than wash my hands since the delivery. My hair was in disarray and my clothing was rumpled and stained. My expression was undoubtedly rather manic.

"Edward, what—" Esme began.

Carlisle had already taken several long breaths, testing the scents in the air. His eyes widened in surprise.

I pulled my parents into my arms and said, "The baby…she's here. Our daughter is here."

Both embraced me tightly, then Carlisle drew back, his tone slightly cautious as he asked, "How is Bella doing?"

"She's tired but fine, I think," I replied, slightly more serious now. "She's sleeping now."

"And the baby?" Esme asked anxiously.

"She's small—five and half pounds—but she seems strong," I replied.

Esme was beaming. "Oh my goodness, we had no idea! We just came by to see how you'd fared during the storm and if you needed any help. We never expected… this!"

"I tried to telephone," I began to explain, "but the lines must have been damaged by the winds." My gaze meeting Carlisle's, I added, "I couldn't reach you, and I couldn't leave Bella to come for you…" My voice trailed off as I realized how fortunate I had been that the birth had gone well.

"When did her labor begin?" Carlisle asked.

"About 8:00 last night. Our little girl was born at 12:35 this morning."

"A little girl," Esme repeated. "Oh my."

"Would you like to meet her?" I asked with a smile, knowing the answer I would receive.

"Of course!" Esme replied instantly.

I was not certain how Esme would react to being in the same room as Bella, particularly with the windows tightly closed. I was not sure if my mother remembered that there would be some bleeding following the delivery.

"Would you make a fire?" I asked Carlisle. "I'll bring her down."

He gave me a nod, then I returned to the bedroom. Very carefully I lifted the baby from her cradle. She did not stir, nor did Bella. I walked silently from the room, gliding down the stairs with my precious little bundle held protectively in my arms.

My parents stood by the fireplace as I entered the parlor. Esme gasped softly, and Carlisle lifted his hands, pressing them together as if in prayer. I walked toward them slowly, careful not to jostle the baby.

"Oh Edward," Esme breathed, "she's so beautiful."

"She is," Carlisle repeated.

They both stared down at the small face with its perfect little features, so like my Bella's.

"She has your hair," Esme commented, "and Bella's nose and chin."

I nodded in agreement. None of us spoke for several minutes; we were all mesmerized by the tiny being I cradled in my arms.

Finally Carlisle said, "She looks healthy. Has she fed yet?"

"Yes," I responded. "She nursed about an hour after she was born."

"Excellent," Carlisle replied with another smile.

"When she wakes, I'd like you to examine her," I requested.

He understood that I worried about my objectivity. "Of course."

The baby began to stir, her fair eyelids quivering as her rosebud lips pursed. A tiny sob escaped her.

"Sshh, sweetheart, it's all right," I soothed, kissing her brow. "Are you hungry?"

As if in response, her eyes opened fully, and she moved her tiny hand. She began to cry softly. I rested my fingertip against her cheek, feeling emptiness in my stomach.

"Yes, hungry," I murmured.

"Edward," Carlisle asked, his voice very low, "are you all right?"

I looked up at him. "Yes. I can feel sensations from her, but they aren't strong; they're just dull twinges."

Both he and Esme appeared relieved; they had been worried about this issue.

"Astonishing," Carlisle said, but I was not certain to what he was referring. At the moment, everything felt astounding to me.

"I'm going to take her back to Bella so she can nurse," I said as the baby fussed a bit more. I looked at Carlisle and asked, "Will you come up and see them when she's finished?"

"Of course, son." His voice was full of warmth, his expression reflecting his deep love for both his daughter-in-law and his grandchild.

I turned to leave but paused. "Esme… I know Bella will want to see you, but I'm not sure—"

She touched my arm gently. "I understand. Carlisle explained that it might be difficult for me at first. Give Bella my love and tell her how happy I am for both of you."

"Thank you," I said, bending down to kiss her cheek. I had taken several steps before I realized there was something I needed to ask. I turned back. "Mrs. Withers?"

Carlisle had wrapped an arm around Esme. Both of them had curious looks upon their faces. He shook his head and said, "I've never seen anything like it. She rallied slightly just after midnight. She's still hanging on, Edward."

"Really?" This bit of news truly surprised me.

"Yes. She may last another few days."

Esme's features showed her compassion and sympathy for our friend. "She's an extraordinary woman," she said.

"She is," I agreed.

Then I carried my daughter upstairs to return her to her mother's tender arms. Bella was beginning to wake, so I kissed her softly and murmured, "Darling, the baby is hungry."

Her eyes opened fully, and she began to push herself up. She grimaced slightly.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Tired and sore, and very, very happy." She smiled as I settled our daughter in her arms.

As Bella nursed the baby, I told her that my parents were downstairs. Resting my hand over the infant's head, I said, "Carlisle will come up as soon as she's finished. He'd like to see you."

She nodded. "I'm eager to see him and Esme, too. Did you tell them her name?"

"No, love, I wanted to let you do that, since it was your idea."

Her soft smile widened. "Thank you."

"They think she's beautiful," I said, stroking the baby's tiny hand. "They're very happy for us." I waited a few seconds then added gently, "Esme was absolutely beaming; she's overjoyed. But remember I told you that it might be difficult for her to be near you after the birth?"

Bella nodded.

"She wants to see you very much," I continued, "but it would be best to wait a little while, at least until we can open the windows and have some fresh air circulating."

My wife was disappointed, but she understood. I knew my next words would cheer her.

"Mrs. Withers is still hanging on," I said.

She looked up from our daughter. "Really?"

"Yes. Carlisle said she seemed to rally a little early this morning."

"Do you think Esme could go and tell her about the baby? I really want her to know."

"That's a wonderful idea," I replied.

Bella and I both felt very content as our little girl finished her breakfast. I changed her diaper then placed her back in Bella's arms asking, "May I ask Carlisle to come up now?"

Bella nodded, eager to see her father-in-law. A few words summoned him. I heard him walking up the stairs at a human pace. He paused in the hallway to give a light tap at the open door.

"Come in," Bella said.

Carlisle entered the bedroom, grinning immediately at the sight of Bella holding the baby.

"Oh sweetheart," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"I know," she replied, lifting her head as he bent to kiss her brow.

He stood for several long moments gazing at his granddaughter, then he turned his attention to Bella. "How are you feeling?" he inquired.

"I'm fine," she replied, her cheeks coloring prettily.

She did not want to tell him that she was sore. I found her reticence endearing. She knew that he had attended hundreds of women in childbirth, and, if not for the storm, he would have helped me to deliver our child.

I could tell that Carlisle was assessing Bella's scent and listening to her heartbeat. He rested the back of his hand against her cheek, his fingers over the pulse point in her throat for several seconds.

"You should eat something," he said kindly, "unless you're feeling nauseated?"

"No, I'm not. I'm hungry, now that you mention it," she responded.

Carlisle and I both smiled. "That's good, love," I said. "I'm sure Esme would be glad to prepare some breakfast for you."

From downstairs, Esme asked what Bella would like.

"Do you think you could manage some scrambled eggs and warm milk?" I suggested.

Bella nodded. "That sounds good."

Esme was already in the kitchen. I knew she would have the food ready soon. In the meantime, I wanted Carlisle to examine the baby to ensure that she was healthy. Bella agreed to my request, but I could see that she was anxious.

Carlisle went to warm his hands by the small wood-fed heater in the corner of our room. Then he lifted his grandchild carefully, holding her with rapt adoration for several moments before setting her gently upon the folded comforter I had placed on the floor before the heater.

I brought my bag to him then returned to the bed to sit beside Bella. I held her hand while Carlisle examined our daughter with meticulous care. His head was bent over her, so I could not see his expression, but I watched his steady hands move over her with infinite gentleness. She observed him sleepily, her tiny fists brushing against his fingers several times.

Finally he looked up with a smile. "She's just fine," he reported with obvious pleasure. "You have a very healthy little girl."

Bella sagged against me in relief, and I clasped her hand a bit tighter. I felt momentarily overwhelmed, too. There were so many things that could have gone wrong during the birth, and so many difficulties our baby might have had… yet she was perfect.

"Thank you," I told my father.

He wrapped a blanket around the baby and brought her back to Bella's waiting arms. Esme called softly that the food was ready and that she would bring it to the top of the stairs. Before I could reply, I heard her light, rapid footsteps and realized that she was on the landing.

Carlisle darted out of the room, speaking quietly to his wife. I knew he was asking her if she felt any difficulty with her self-control.

"I smell the eggs most strongly," she said. "I'd like to bring the tray to the bedroom?"

Her tone was calm and measured. I murmured a rapid assent, and she walked down the hallway. Carlisle kept his arm around her waist as she stood in the doorway.

"Oh my," she whispered, her reaction the same as her husband's when she saw my beautiful wife cuddling our gorgeous little daughter. I noticed that Carlisle's hand tightened at her waist.

"Esme!" Bella cried softly, very pleased to see her mother-in-law

I watched Esme closely, noting her stance and listening for her inhalations. She was not breathing.

"Please, come in," Bella said.

Esme's gaze met mine, and I gave her a nod. She entered the room with cautious steps, moving toward the bed slowly. She set the tray on the night table. Bella reached for Esme's hand, grasping it warmly.

"How are you feeling, dear?" Esme asked.

"Pretty good," Bella replied. "Are you… all right?"

Esme nodded. She had not taken a breath yet. Carlisle slid his arms around her in an embrace, but we all understood that in an instant he could tighten his grip if necessary.

"I just wanted to tell you how thrilled I am for you, and how beautiful she is," Esme said.

"Thank you," Bella replied. She glanced at me eagerly, and I knew what she wished to say.

"Go ahead, love," I said.

She placed her hand over our daughter's head and said, "Her name is Charlotte: Charlotte Esme Cullen."

Both Carlisle and Esme gasped softly at the realization that our child's name honored both of them, as well as Bella's father.

"That's lovely," Carlisle said.

Esme did not speak. She touched Charlotte's head lightly then kissed Bella's cheek, her eyes shining poignantly. Her lips moved in a silent acknowledgment of gratitude. Then she hurried from the room. Carlisle followed to be certain his wife was all right.

I heard her tell him that she was simply overcome with emotion, and I relayed this to Bella. She blinked back tears.

My wife ate her breakfast, then I placed Charlotte in her cradle and helped Bella to the bathroom. By the time she returned to bed, she was ready to sleep again.

"Can you ask Esme if she would mind going into town and tell Mrs. Withers and the Webers about the baby?" she requested tiredly, reminding me of her earlier suggestion.

"Of course. I'm sure won't mind at all; she'll be very happy to do that."

As soon as Bella fell asleep, I darted downstairs to speak with Esme. She readily agreed to share our happy news with our friends. Carlisle remained with me in case Bella or Charlotte should need him. He understood that his presence brought peace of mind to me.

After Esme left, he and I spoke for a few minutes. He wanted to be certain there would be no complications for Bella following the birth. He thought she seemed to be doing well, but he asked for some details about the delivery. My answers pleased him; he was relieved that all had gone smoothly.

For my part, I was curious to know his professional impressions as he examined Charlotte. I did not doubt his words, but I wanted additional information.

"As I told you," he said, "she appears healthy. Her color is good, her heart and lungs are functioning well, her body temperature is normal… I didn't note anything atypical for a newborn."

"So she is completely human," I finished. This had been a lingering concern for me, even though he had believed from the outset that the baby would have none of my preternatural characteristics.

"Yes, son. From what you've told me, the only unusual thing about her is that she shares a touch of Bella's uniqueness, but that's not a trait she got from you. I imagine you will learn more about this over the next weeks and months as her nervous system continues to develop."

"I know I felt less from her than I did from other babies I delivered," I replied, remembering the sense of pressure, the sudden coldness, the general discomfort I had experienced on numerous occasions while attending births at the hospital.

"It's interesting from a scientific perspective, I suppose," he mused. "In time you'll learn whether she is able to dull others' pain for you, as well."

"I would never ask her to do that," I responded quickly.

"No, of course not. But at some point, a situation will likely arise…" He smiled rather apologetically. "Anyway, the most important thing is that she and Bella both came through the birth well. I am very proud of you, Edward."

I did not deserve his praise. But I thanked him nonetheless. Then I returned to the bedroom, eager to see my wife and child again.

* * *

><p>Esme returned with copious good wishes from the Webers, Helen, and Mrs. Withers. The elderly woman's eyes had shone with joyful tears when Esme brought her the wonderful news.<p>

I relayed this information to Bella as soon as she woke. Immediately she asked, "Can we go and see her? I really want Mrs. Withers to meet Charlotte."

"Let's see how you're feeling tomorrow, love," I replied. "We'll also need to make sure that Charlotte is well."

This comment distressed my wife, but I quickly assured her that I was not concerned; I was simply being cautious. I encouraged Bella to rest some more, as she remained tired. I felt grateful that I did not experience fatigue. I could see to most of the baby's needs while Bella was sleeping, waking my wife just for feedings.

Bella slept for several hours after lunch. Charlotte roused while her mother was still slumbering, so I took her downstairs to see her grandparents. Esme had not held the baby yet; it was time she became acquainted with her granddaughter.

Carlisle had gone out to the stable to attend to Callie and Stanley. Esme was in the kitchen working on Bella's dinner, but I called her into the parlor, where I had moved one of the armchairs near the hearth.

When I turned to face her, she saw that I had Charlotte in my arms. She smiled warmly.

"Come and sit," I offered, "and hold her for a little while."

Esme's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yes. You need to get to know each other."

Esme sat down, taking a few moments to stand near the fire to warm her arms and chest. Then I set Charlotte in her arms. For several moments my mother was utterly mesmerized, remaining motionless. And then the baby yawned, and we both grinned. She was absolutely adorable.

Esme cooed to her granddaughter, gently stroking her diminutive hands and kissing her hair. Charlotte was drowsy and fell asleep in her grandmother's loving arms. When Carlisle returned to the house, Esme and I were still in the parlor, watching the beautiful sleeping infant.

He moved soundlessly to stand beside Esme's chair. She looked up at him, a tender smile upon her lips. He pressed a soft kiss over her temple. For a long time no one spoke; we were simply content to be together. We shared joy and wonder at the family we had become, thanks to my wonderful wife.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	78. Chapter 78

_Author's Note:_ A few readers have asked for tissue warnings… You may want to keep a box handy for this chapter.

* * *

><p>Bella felt stronger in the morning. Her cheeks were rosy, she had no fever or unusual pain, and her scent was retuning to normal. I was relieved that she showed no signs of post-delivery complications such as puerperal infection. Her body was recovering well.<p>

Carlisle and I both agreed that a very short trip to town should be possible. While I would have preferred to wait another day or two to err on the side of caution, I understood that time was of the essence. Bella would be crushed if Mrs. Withers passed away without meeting Charlotte. I, too, wished to give our dear friend a few moments with my daughter, knowing it would bring joy to her in her final hours.

It seemed that circumstances were favorable weather-wise, too. By morning, the storm had passed completely. The temperature remained cool but not freezing, and light cloud cover obscured the sun.

Bella came to the kitchen for breakfast, walking slowly but fairly steadily down the stairs with my arm through hers. She ate well, enjoying the eggs and flapjacks Esme had prepared. My mother stood in the doorway, still cautious of her reactions. She did not appear to be struggling significantly; I suspected that her deep maternal feelings superseded most of her more primal instincts.

Carlisle had checked on Mrs. Withers the previous night and again early in the morning. Somehow she still continued to cling to life, but she could not last much longer. He told me somberly that if she were to meet Charlotte, it needed to happen very soon.

After breakfast, Bella dressed, then we bundled Charlotte in her warmest little clothes, mittens, booties, and crocheted cap, tucking blankets around her, too. I started the motorcar, waiting a few minutes until the heat from the engine dissipated some of the chill. Then Carlisle assisted Bella in climbing into the vehicle as she kept the baby in her arms.

I had never driven more carefully than I did that morning as we crept along the quiet road to town. Charlotte slept in her mother's lap, not seeming to mind the noise and motion of the motorcar. When we arrived at Mrs. Withers' house, I helped Bella from the Cadillac and walked with my arm around her to the door.

She looked up at me before I knocked, her smile poignant. I kissed her cheek then rapped softly. Helen opened the door, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw my wife and the small bundle she held protectively.

"Oh my goodness!" Helen cried, "I wasn't expecting to see you! Come in out of the cold."

"How is your mother-in-law today?" I asked as we stepped inside.

"She's very weak," Helen replied, "but she was so happy when your mother came to tell us the wonderful news last evening." Despite the somber mood in the house, a grin spread over her face as Bella uncovered our little daughter.

"This is Charlotte," Bella said.

"She's so pretty," Helen responded, "and my gracious, she has your hair, Dr. Cullen."

"Indeed she does," I replied with a light chuckle. I was certain I would hear that particular comment many times.

"Is Mrs. Withers awake?" Bella asked.

"She was a few minutes ago," Helen replied. "Let's see…"

Helen hurried toward the elderly woman's room, slipping inside and murmuring a few words. Then she opened the door fully and beckoned us with a smile, knowing that her mother-in-law would be delighted by our visit. I kept my hand at Bella's back as we walked into the room.

"Mrs. Withers," Bella said, approaching the bed.

"Bella, dear," the frail woman whispered. She was extremely weak. I could hear the congestion in her lungs and the labored beating of her exhausted heart. Still, she held on tenaciously to the final hours of her life.

Bella sat down on the bed beside her, unwrapping Charlotte's blankets completely so that Mrs. Withers could see the baby more easily. I stood with my hand upon my wife's shoulder, my gaze drawn naturally to our child.

"How… are you?" Mrs. Withers asked, her eyes meeting Bella's.

"I'm fine," she answered. "Everything went well."

"Tired?" our friend inquired succinctly.

Bella nodded. "A little, but I'm feeling better today."

Mrs. Withers somehow found the energy to click her tongue. "You should… still be resting." She managed to give me a stern look.

"I will as soon as we return home," Bella said. "And we won't stay long. We just wanted you to meet our Charlotte."

"Charlotte," Mrs. Withers repeated softly. "Beautiful."

"Charlotte Esme," I added. "She's named for both Bella's and my fathers, and for my mother."

"Lovely woman," Mrs. Withers rasped.

"She is," Bella agreed.

Mrs. Withers shakily lifted her thin, pale hand toward the baby. Bella took her wrist gently and rested her fingers against Charlotte's cheek. Our little daughter opened her eyes and blinked.

"Oh… so beautiful," Mrs. Withers whispered, "just like… her parents."

Her gaze moved to meet mine, and for a moment I saw absolute clarity in her eyes. Her lips moved, her voice so low that Bella barely heard her. Her words were inaudible to Helen, but I made them out clearly.

"Dr. Cullen," she said, "I _know_." For an instant, her gaze was almost piercing. "You're not like Bella or me… you're special. Take care… of them." She lowered her eyes to Bella and Charlotte. "As only you… can. Promise an old woman… that you'll do that."

Bella inhaled sharply, and I felt her body tense. Mrs. Withers smiled at her, and I knew that we had nothing to fear. The old woman's expression contained nothing but warmth and deep affection.

"I will," I said. "I will always take care of them to the best of my ability."

"Thank you," she whispered, her hand dropping from the baby's cheek. "Charlotte… such a lovely name."

Then her eyes closed, and her breathing grew very shallow. I felt her pulse; it was weak, faltering, but her heart continued to beat feebly.

"She's sleeping," I told Bella.

She nodded, blinking back tears. I helped her to stand, then I kissed Mrs. Withers' brow and murmured, "Sleep well, my dear friend."

* * *

><p>Bella was quiet as we drove home. I knew she was deeply affected by Mrs. Withers' words. The knowledge that the dear woman had perspicacity beyond that of most humans left both of us slightly shaken. Yet somehow I was not terribly surprised. I had long realized that there was something exceptional about Mrs. Withers.<p>

I parked the Cadillac in front of the house then dashed around to lift Bella from her seat. She had begun trembling slightly. I could see that she was chilled and fatigued, and I worried that our short trip had been ill-advised. I carried her inside, where Carlisle and Esme waited in the parlor.

"Do you want to go up to bed?" I asked my wife.

She shook her head. "No. I think I'd like to sit by the hearth with Charlotte."

"Are you certain?" I questioned with concern.

"Yes. I'm all right. I'm just feeling very sad…"

She rested her head against my shoulder. I could smell the salt of her tears. Esme stood quickly as we entered the room, offering to prepare some hot cocoa. Before either Bella or I could respond, she slipped from the parlor.

Carlisle was on his feet, too, his gaze upon Bella. His brow furrowed as he took in her pale cheeks and teary eyes. "Mrs. Withers?" he asked too quickly for Bella to understand.

Equally fast, I replied, "Still hanging on, but it won't be long now." Then, speaking so that Bella could comprehend, I requested, "Would you move the settee nearer the fire?"

He complied immediately, and I placed my wife gently upon the cushions. Carlisle took Charlotte so that I could help Bella remove her coat, hat, and gloves. Then I settled a pillow behind her back and tucked a blanket around her. I knelt by her side, watching her closely. Tears trickled down her wan cheeks.

She grasped my hand and said softly, "Thank you for taking me to see her."

I nodded in acknowledgment, reaching for my handkerchief so that I could dab softly at her tears. Then I took her in my arms and held her, one hand stroking her hair. I felt her heartbeat slowing as she grew calmer.

"I hope it wasn't too much for you," I murmured, my tone apologetic.

She shook her head. "No. I'm so glad she got to meet Charlotte."

Both of our gazes moved to our daughter, held gently in her grandfather's loving embrace. He looked up at us with a tender smile.

"The cocoa is ready," Esme said from the kitchen. "Shall I bring it now, or would it be better if I wait?"

I knew how much being with family cheered Bella, so I replied, "I think now is fine."

Esme came into the room holding a steaming mug. She placed it in Bella's hands then stepped back, allowing herself a few moments to gaze at the baby before returning to the kitchen.

Bella took a sip of the hot beverage, her cheeks regaining some color as the warmth spread through her. I kept my arm around her until she had finished the drink, then I set the mug on the side table.

Carlisle brought Charlotte to the sofa, setting her gently in Bella's lap.

"How are you feeling, dear?" he asked.

"Better," she replied.

He rested his hand against her cheek, checking her temperature. I knew it was normal, but I appreciated his concern. I would watch her carefully for the rest of the day in case she was becoming ill. At the moment, I smelled no indications of infection or other problems. I could tell from Carlisle's expression that he detected nothing unusual, either.

Charlotte began to fuss, and I realized it was time for her to eat again. After Carlisle excused himself, I helped Bella unbutton her dress, replacing the blanket over her shoulders so that she would not become chilled again.

As our daughter nursed, her tiny hand came up to rest over Bella's heart. I wondered if she could feel the beat and if it brought her the same comfort it often brought me.

"When do you think Esme will be comfortable being near me?" Bella asked after a few minutes. "It would be nice if she could sit with me while I feed Charlotte."

"Yes, it would," I agreed, understanding that the companionship would be pleasant for both my wife and mother. "Hopefully it will only be a few more days until she feels at ease."

I had explained lochia to Bella. The normal postpartum discharge was becoming a little lighter today, and most likely it would not affect Esme much in another two or three days. Even now, Esme said she barely noticed it unless she was in close proximity to Bella. Still, we all wanted to exercise extra caution in this very delicate situation.

Bella nodded. "That's what I thought. I suppose I just wanted to be sure."

"You can ask me anything, love," I assured her. "I know this is all very new for you. It is for me, too."

"But at least you know the facts. Have I told you lately how grateful I am for your flawless memory?" She gave me a little grin.

"Hmm, not recently." I kissed her crown. "I'll always share whatever I know with you. But there are some things we're just going to have to figure out together."

"I know." She leaned into me, resting against my chest while Charlotte continued nursing enthusiastically.

I touched the baby's cheek. Her tiny stomach was nearly full. It was fascinating to watch her nurse. While I understood the physiological aspects, the emotional component enthralled me. I could sense the calm the act brought to both Charlotte and Bella, and I felt at peace, too, when I was in their presence.

I studied my wife for a few moments. Her complexion was rosy now, and her heart beat steadily. She was smiling as she shifted the baby to her shoulder and patted Charlotte's little back lightly. I was amazed, yet somehow unsurprised, at how naturally she handled the baby.

"I knew you would be wonderful at this," I told her.

"Oh goodness, I've hardly done anything yet," she protested. "I haven't even bathed her."

"There will be plenty of time for that once you're stronger, darling. Besides, I've enjoyed every moment I've had with her."

Bella's smile faltered, and I saw her eyes grow bright with tears again. Had I upset her? Was she worried I did not trust her with our child?

She laced her fingers through mine. "I know," she said softly, and I realized that she was deeply touched by my affection for Charlotte.

I wrapped Bella in my arms and held my wife and daughter tenderly.

* * *

><p>That afternoon Angela came for a short visit. She brought Bella's favorite turnovers and a pretty bonnet for Charlotte. She and Bella sat in the parlor, talking quietly about the birth and the baby. I was glad that my wife had a human friend with whom to discuss the experience. While Rosemary's delivery had been quite different from Charlotte's, I understood that Angela and Bella shared the same emotions.<p>

As Angela stood to leave, she asked Bella if she could mention Charlotte's arrival to the Josephs. Bella was glad for her to share the happy news. She and Angela embraced, then I walked Angela to the door.

"Please send for me if you need anything," she offered.

"Thank you," I replied. "That's very kind of you."

When I heard a carriage approaching a few minutes later, I thought she had forgotten something. I opened the door, momentarily surprised to see the Reverend Joseph. Surely Angela had not spoken to him yet.

"Reverend," I greeted, stepping out onto the porch as he reined in the horse.

His expression was somber as he tipped his hat. "Dr. Cullen."

"Is Mrs. Joseph all right?" I asked with concern.

"Yes, she's fine." He climbed down from the buggy so that he could stand before me. "I've just come from Mrs. Withers' place. She passed on about an hour ago."

"Oh…"

"It was peaceful, Helen said. Mrs. Withers fell asleep right after your visit and just didn't wake up."

I nodded, feeling a tightness in my throat. "How is Helen?"

"Clara is with her. I think she's holding up all right."

I was not sure what to say. We stood in silence for several moments, then the minister spoke again. "You and your father did everything you could, . She's in God's arms now, bless her."

I nodded again. "She was an extraordinary woman."

"Yes, she was." His gaze moved toward the house. His tone lighter, he said, "I understand that you've had a happy event."

I could not help but smile as I replied, "Indeed. Our daughter, Charlotte, was born early yesterday morning. She's healthy, and Bella is well."

"Helen told me to thank you for your visit. I know that you and your little girl were in Mrs. Withers' thoughts at the end."

I swallowed thickly. "Thank you."

He placed a comforting hand upon my shoulder and gave a light squeeze. "Thank _you_, Dr. Cullen. You have been a blessing to my wife and to this community… And now your father has joined you. We are very fortunate to have two outstanding physicians here."

I bowed my head in acknowledgment, again feeling at a loss for words.

"Please give Mrs. Cullen Clara's and my warmest congratulations," he said. "Would it be all right if we stopped by tomorrow for a short visit? Clara is eager to see the baby."

"Certainly," I responded.

He climbed back into the buggy and took the reins.

"Thank you for coming," I said.

He touched his hat again then drove off. Carlisle appeared at my side the moment the minister was out of sight. I knew he had heard Reverend Joseph's news. He rested a hand against my arm.

"I'm sorry, son," he said simply.

"I know."

"I'll go into town to check on Helen and see if there is anything I can do," he offered gently. "Unless you need me here?"

"No, I think we'll be all right."

He returned to the house. I remained on the porch for another minute, then I walked inside slowly. I could hear Carlisle and Esme speaking very softly in the kitchen. My mother's voice was strained with sadness at the news he shared.

Bella had taken Charlotte upstairs to change her after Angela left, so I went to our room. For several seconds I stood in the doorway watching my wife tuck our daughter into her cradle. Bella rocked the little bed gently, humming softly as the baby slipped into slumber.

Bella sat back on the mattress, a tired sigh escaping her. She looked down at the cradle again then up to see me step into the bedroom. A smile flickered across her lips, only to freeze when she read my expression.

"Edward?" she questioned. "What's wrong?"

I moved to sit beside her, taking her hands in mine. "Reverend Joseph was just here. He came from Mrs. Withers' house…Darling, she passed away about an hour ago."

Bella's lips pressed together, and she blinked at tears.

"Helen said it was peaceful," I continued gently. "You and Charlotte were the last things she saw before she simply fell asleep. I can't imagine a more wonderful sight to carry into one's dreams."

* * *

><p>The following day was Sunday. It brought several visitors bearing good wishes and gifts. Apparently Reverend Joseph had mentioned Charlotte's arrival after his sermon. He and Mrs. Joseph were the first to drop in.<p>

Mrs. Joseph presented Bella with a pretty crocheted blanket for the baby. While the two women admired my daughter, I spoke with the minister.

"Have services for Mrs. Withers been planned yet?" I asked.

He nodded. "Tomorrow morning at 9:00. Helen asked me to announce it at church, knowing how much her mother-in-law meant to everyone."

"Have you seen Helen today?"

"Yes. I had hoped she might attend this morning's service… She didn't, so I stopped by afterwards."

"Is she all right?"

"She seems to be. She said she had slept through the night and well past daybreak—something she hadn't done in months. I think she was embarrassed, but I told her it was good for her."

"It was. She needs the rest." Carlisle had left a mild sleeping draught with her; I wondered if she had taken it. Regardless, I was glad that she had slept. Caring for Mrs. Withers had exhausted her, in both body and mind. She was a kind soul indeed.

About an hour after the Josephs left, Mrs. McMahon and Pearl arrived. The little girl seemed anxious, so immediately I assured her that Bella and the baby were fine. I took her hand and led her to the parlor, where Bella sat with Charlotte.

"Bella," I said, "look who's here."

My wife looked up and smiled. "Oh Pearl! How nice to see you. Come and meet our Charlotte."

I led the child to Bella, feeling her small fingers tighten in my hand. She peered down at the baby, then looked back up at Bella again.

"They're both just fine," I reassured Pearl.

Mrs. McMahon had followed a few paces behind us. Now she stood beside me.

"What a beautiful baby," she said.

"She's so little," Pearl commented.

"But she's strong and healthy," I replied, squeezing Pearl's hand gently to impress my point.

Pearl's other hand remained in her coat pocket, which bulged slightly.

"Pearl," Mrs. McMahon urged quietly, "give it to her."

Pearl withdrew a small parcel wrapped in brown paper from her pocket. She held it out to Bella.

"Is this for Charlotte?" Bella asked with a little smile.

Pearl nodded. Bella removed the paper to find a pair of knit booties inside. She touched them, saying, "They're so soft, and they feel very warm."

"Pearl is learning how to knit," Mrs. McMahon said. "She helped me with them."

"Oh my," Bella said, "that's wonderful! Let's put them on her."

She removed the booties Charlotte currently wore and set them aside. Then she looked up at Pearl. "Would you like to do it?"

Pearl's eyes widened, but she nodded happily. Her small hands slid the booties onto Charlotte's tiny feet.

"These are the prettiest ones she has," Bella said. "Thank you." She smiled warmly at both Pearl and her mother.

We visited for a short while, then Mrs. McMahon told Pearl that it was time to go. Bella thanked them again for the gift, and before Pearl walked out of the room, my wife took her hand and said, "I hope that Charlotte grows up to be as lovely a little girl as you are."

Pearl was beaming as she and her mother left. Bella's and my moods were buoyed by their visit, too. We were both touched by the kindness and generosity of our friends and neighbors.

Later that afternoon, we received another welcome gift. Ben arrived with a telegram from Mrs. Dwyer.

At Bella's request, Carlisle had wired the Dwyers the previous day. The telephone lines were still damaged, but the telegraph system remained functional. We had not heard from Bella's mother and step-father since their departure from Madras, and we both worried that their trip had proven perilous. So the telegram was a relief in more ways than one.

I read the brief message to Bella: _Congratulations. Joyful thoughts are with you. Delayed by snow but home safely. Our love to you and Charlotte._

Bella was very pleased with the news and sentiments. We both thanked Ben for delivering the telegram. He just grinned and said he was glad to have an excuse to come and see Charlotte. Angela had asked him to remain at home with Rosemary the previous day, not wishing to overtax Bella with too many visitors.

"She's just as gorgeous as Ange told me," he said as he gazed upon our daughter. "I'm really happy for you."

"I think that she and Rosemary will be great friends," Bella said.

The image of two little girls playing together while Ben, Angela, Bella, and I enjoyed a game of cards or visited was a delightful one. Our children would be companions; what a wonderful thought that was.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued... <em>


	79. Chapter 79

Cloud cover remained in the morning, but there was no rain and the temperature was not excessively cold. Bella had rested relatively well, waking to nurse Charlotte twice but falling asleep quickly afterward. I was glad that I did not require slumber and could attend to my daughter's other needs while her mother slept.

Carlisle and Esme spent the night at their house, wishing to give me some time alone with my little family. However, they returned just after 7:00 so that Esme could assist with household activities. Over the last few days, she had prepared breakfast for Bella and laundered the baby items. These small tasks were mere trifles for my mother; scrubbing diapers and running them through the wringer required very little effort for her. Yet it meant a great deal to her to provide whatever assistance she could.

Today we had a much more important job for her. She was going to watch Charlotte while Bella, Carlisle, and I attended Mrs. Withers' funeral. While Bella knew she would find it difficult to be away from our daughter, she understood that we could not take Charlotte with us. Exposing a newborn to the chilly air and the many people who would be at the service would be extremely imprudent.

So after breakfast Bella fed Charlotte again, changed her diaper, then set her baby in her cradle. We hoped that she would sleep while we were gone so that Esme would not need to do more than check her blankets. However, my mother had shown us that she was quite capable of attending to anything an infant would require, with the exception of sustenance.

Bella and I kissed Charlotte good-bye, then we climbed into Carlisle's motorcar for the short drive to town. Many wagons and buggies surrounded the church, and I could hear the voices of dozens of individuals inside. Carlisle parked, and I helped Bella from the vehicle. The three of us walked into the church together.

The small building was nearly full, every pew taken and a number of men standing along the wall. Reverend Joseph sat in the front pew with his wife and Helen, flanked by Mrs. Withers' other daughter-in-law, son, and grandchildren. We saw the Webers, the McMahons, Abe, Miss Essie, and the Jensens sitting further back. We made our way along the aisle toward the front to pay our respects to Helen and the other relatives.

I was aware of gentle smiles following us. By now I felt certain that most of the community had heard Bella's and my happy news. I gave several nods of acknowledgment as we passed well-wishers.

When we reached the front, we both embraced Helen and spoke with the family. I studied Helen carefully, noting that she appeared less fatigued but remained tired. It would take her some time to regain her strength after the months she had spent attending to her mother-in-law. As a widow, she had undertaken the majority of Mrs. Withers' care, showing a degree of devotion that I admired considerably. I hoped, however, that the task had not proven too much for her. I would pay her a visit within a day or so to see how she was faring.

Carlisle quietly slipped toward the back of the church once he had spoken with the family. Helen and Mrs. Withers' son insisted that Bella and I sit in the pew with them. I was deeply touched by this gesture.

The Reverend conducted a fitting service, sharing several fond memories of Mrs. Withers. His voice was particularly rich with respect when he said that the dear woman was always the first to help when someone was ill or injured. She had also attended the births of nearly everyone in the community under the age of thirty. Murmurs of "bless her" accompanied the minister's words.

When the service was finished, everyone walked out to the cemetery behind the churchyard. I kept Bella's hand in mine, attending carefully to her heartbeat and breathing to be certain she was not over-exerting herself. Her eyes had been damp with tears while the Reverend spoke, and when she saw the gravesite she took a shaky breath and reached for her handkerchief.

Carlisle placed a gentle hand at her back, while I twined my fingers through hers, pressing my cool palm against her warm one. As we listened to the minister's final words, my gaze moved over the faces of all those gathered to bid farewell to the amazing woman. I saw affection, gratitude, admiration, and friendship in every expression.

Mrs. Withers had touched many, many lives, and I knew that all of them—Bella's and mine included—were better for having known her.

* * *

><p>Carlisle drove us home after the graveside service. While I knew that Bella trusted Esme implicitly, her strong maternal feelings left her longing for our daughter. We had been gone for nearly two hours, and I missed my dear little girl, too.<p>

Esme greeted us at the door, immediately assuring Bella that Charlotte remained asleep in our bedroom.

"She didn't make a peep," my mother reported with a soft smile. "She's such a good little darling."

Bella thanked her then hurried up the stairs. I was not far behind her. Still, by the time I entered our room, she had knelt beside the cradle to stroke the baby's silky hair with her fingertips. Charlotte's tiny mouth puckered, and her eyes moved beneath her delicate, pale lids.

I bent to rest my finger against the baby's cheek. She would need her diaper changed soon, and her stomach was beginning to feel empty. Bella and I sat watching her for some time, neither of us speaking. We both needed to revel in the new life we had created.

When Charlotte woke, Bella removed the soiled diaper while I set a fresh one on the bed. My wife was quickly becoming comfortable handling the baby. I knew she had worried that she would not know what to do, but her instincts were perfect. She moved the tiny limbs carefully and lovingly, folding the cloth easily. Indeed, her human hands seemed even more adept at the task than my own.

Clean diaper secured, Bella lifted Charlotte and kissed her crown. The baby lifted her diminutive hand to touch my wife's chin. The sight—so common yet so extraordinary—filled me with warmth.

We took our daughter downstairs, where Bella sat in the parlor to nurse her. That morning Esme had softly informed me that she felt completely comfortable with Bella now; there was no temptation from her scent.

A few murmured words drew my mother into the room, where she glided over to Bella. Bella looked up at her with a smile, understanding what the gesture meant.

Esme settled into one of the wingback chairs. I slipped from the parlor as they began talking quietly. I joined Carlisle in the kitchen, where he stood gazing out the window. He turned to me, his expression contemplative.

"What are you thinking of?" I asked.

"Mrs. Withers, mostly," he replied.

"She enhanced many lives."

"Indeed."

I drew a slow breath. "Carlisle, she knew about me."

His eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean?"

"The last time I saw her, she told me that she knew I was different. I'm sure she never mentioned it to anyone else. I had the sense that she simply needed to tell me, that in some way stating it reassured her that Bella and Charlotte were in good hands."

"How interesting," he mused.

I nodded, immersed in thought for several moments before speaking again. "You know, if it weren't for her, I'm not sure I would have returned to medicine."

He gave me a curious look, so I continued.

"After I delivered Rosemary, Mrs. Withers mentioned me and my particular skills to a few people, and the first patients I treated, aside from Bella and Angela, were her relatives and friends. The day I opened the office, she made a point to come in so that the townspeople would see that she trusted me. I really owe her a debt of gratitude."

Carlisle's smile was gentle as he said, "I didn't know that. I will remember her even more fondly now."

We both turned back to the window, our eyes naturally drawn to the expanse of sky. I felt his hand come to rest upon my shoulder as we paid our silent respects to a cherished friend.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued... and the next chapter will be longer, I promise! :)<em>


	80. Chapter 80

_Note:_ Once again, I apologize for the delay in completing this chapter. Thank you for your patience!

* * *

><p>Over the next few weeks, our little family began settling into new routines. Charlotte was an easy baby, sleeping for several hours at a time and crying only when she was hungry or, rarely, wet. My enhanced olfactory system alerted me immediately to the need for a diaper change, so whenever I was at home I made sure that my daughter never spent more than a few moments in a dirty diaper.<p>

Bella proved a wonderful mother, and I never tired of watching her with Charlotte. During the first weeks after my daughter's birth, my love for both Bella and Charlotte grew even stronger, something I had never realized was possible.

Charlotte had a hearty appetite and was growing well. She remained slightly small, but I felt confident that she would continue to gain weight steadily. Even so, I could not resist the urge to measure and weigh her often, consulting with Carlisle over the results. He always smiled and sometimes chuckled when I shared the latest numbers with him, so I knew he was pleased with Charlotte's development, too.

Carlisle oversaw our practice during those early weeks, permitting me to remain with my wife and child as much as possible. I went to the office occasionally for appointments with a few of my established patients, but for the most part I was content to focus my attentions at home.

* * *

><p>One day, when Charlotte was just over four weeks old, I went into town to see Mrs. Joseph. She was doing relatively well, but I wanted to keep a close eye on her. I had been concerned that she might become anemic. My suspicions were confirmed as I examined her.<p>

I spent some time explaining the condition to her, assuring her that with proper rest and diet it would not become serious. I walked her home so that I could answer any questions the Reverend might have. He was worried about his wife, but I was able to allay most of his fears while still emphasizing that Mrs. Joseph needed to be very careful now.

I stopped at the mercantile before returning home. Bella needed a few items, and I had a letter to mail to Boise. I was surprised to find the store empty when I entered. I listened for a few moments, quickly realizing that both Ben and Angela were in their living quarters. Rosemary was crying, and her parents were trying to comfort her. I was becoming quite familiar with the small variations in a baby's cries, and I felt certain that little Rosemary's was a wail of pain. A faint whiff of blood tickled at my nose.

I hurried to the door and opened it, calling, "Ben? It's Edward. Is everything all right?" The distinctive, iron-tinged scent was strong inside the house.

"Edward!" Ben replied, stepping into the hallway from the parlor. "Thank God you came by. Rosemary fell and hit her head."

I hastened to the parlor, where I found Angela sitting on the floor with Rosemary in her lap. Angela was trying to hold a cloth against the baby's bloody forehead, but the tiny girl was squirming, trying to get away from the pain her mother's hand was causing her.

I knelt beside Angela. "What happened?" I asked, attempting to ascertain how serious the injury might be.

Angela had tears in her eyes when she looked up at me. "She was walking a little, holding herself up on the table. She took a few steps, so I scooted back and opened my arms to her, but she stumbled."

"She hit her head on this?" I asked, touching edge of the low, marble-topped table in front of the sofa.

Angela nodded miserably. Ben placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, but his expression was stricken, too. I understood how difficult it was to see one's child in pain.

I touched Angela's hand, urging her to move it aside so that I could view the wound. Blood still welled from the gash.

"Let's take her to the kitchen," I suggested. "I need to clean this."

Ben helped his wife to stand while I darted off to the kitchen to run cool water over a fresh dish towel. Angela sat in one of the chairs, still holding Rosemary, while I bathed the wound.

Rosemary had a one-inch laceration just below her hairline. I took a breath then probed the site gently, trying not to wince at the sharp throb in my forehead.

"It's not terribly deep," I told Ben and Angela. "There's going to be some swelling, though." I pressed another clean towel over the wound, hoping that my cool skin would soothe some of the pain, as well as help slow the bleeding. I studied Rosemary's eyes for a few moments, checking her pupil response. "I don't see any sign of concussion—"

"But there's so much blood!" Angela said.

"Head wounds tend to bleed quite a bit," I replied. "It's slowing now."

We waited until the bleeding ceased, then I cleaned and bandaged the wound. Rosemary had calmed somewhat, but she continued to sniffle lightly. I knew that her head ached. Angela took her to her nursery to rock her, hoping that would comfort her further.

I advised Ben to notify me immediately if Rosemary appeared nauseated or lethargic. He promised that he and Angela would keep close watch on their daughter. I suspected that she would not be out of their sight for even an instant over the next several days.

Ben thanked me and accompanied me back to the store. He took my letter and gathered the few items I needed, refusing to accept any payment from me. He slipped back inside the house as I left, wanting to check on his daughter again.

I returned to the office briefly to ask Carlisle to look in on Rosemary before he left town. He was glad to do it and promised he would telephone me later to tell me how the little girl was doing.

When I got home, Bella was in the kitchen. I could hear Charlotte's heartbeat upstairs and knew she was sleeping. I carried the box of groceries inside and set them on the table.

"Thank you for getting these," Bella said.

"It was rather fortuitous that I did," I replied. "Rosemary fell and hit her head just before I got to the store."

"Oh dear! Is she all right?"

I nodded. "I think so. The wound isn't deep, but there was a lot of blood—head wounds tend to bleed quite heavily—and Ben and Angela were pretty upset."

Bella paled slightly. I regretted my choice of words; I should have been less graphic in my description.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," I said, cupping her cheeks.

"No, don't apologize. I just realized…" She took a slow breath. "Oh Edward, what if Charlotte were hurt like that? What if I couldn't take care of her properly because of the blood? I would try, of course; I'd do everything I could. But what if I… I got dizzy and dropped her?"

"I'll never be far away," I responded. "And Carlisle can get here from town or from home in a few minutes' time, too."

She shook her head. "But those few minutes could be important."

I stroked her cheek softly and looked into her eyes. "You are a wonderful mother, Bella. I have no doubt that you will be able to handle anything that our daughter needs."

My words did not fully assuage her, however. Over the next few days, I could see the occasional tightness of her brow and knew that she continued to worry about the possibility of Charlotte's being hurt. It was inevitable that at some point our daughter would suffer a scrape or cut, particularly once she began walking…

Fortunately, little Rosemary experienced no long-term effects from her injury. I stopped at the store several times over the next few days to check on her, finding her healing well. Children, I knew, were quite resilient, sometimes more so than their parents.

* * *

><p>Even after Bella had recovered fully from Charlotte's birth, Esme continued to spend much of each day at our house. She was a wonderful help to my wife, doing many of the domestic chores so that Bella could devote her time to the baby. I felt very fortunate to have such a kind, generous mother.<p>

Of course, Esme loved every moment she had with her granddaughter. She was glad to change a dirty diaper or help with a bath, and when she held Charlotte I saw absolute joy upon her face. My daughter cuddled into her grandmother's embrace, completely comfortable and content.

I found Charlotte's reaction to both my parents and me interesting. She did not appear to notice to coolness of our skin, or perhaps she had simply grown accustomed to it during her earliest days. I had worried that she might find my touch—or that of Carlisle or Esme—unpleasantly cold, but she never flinched or showed any signs of discomfort.

For a few brief days after her birth, I had actually fretted that my daughter's senses were impaired. However, Carlisle had pointed out that she reacted to changes in water temperature and fussed when her diaper was wet. It seemed that her lack of response to cool skin was simply a habituation her infant mind had readily made. Perhaps she simply sensed the warmth of spirit that my parents exuded, and that supplanted whatever else she might feel.

Regardless, Charlotte enjoyed her entire family. When I lifted her from her cradle, she rested in my arms happily, her tiny hands closing around my finger or brushing over my wrist. When Carlisle gently tickled her soft cheeks or pressed light kisses over her downy head, she smiled with delight. When Esme changed her diaper or dried her after a bath, she kicked her little legs joyfully and waved her small hands.

Bella and I spent many delightful hours in the company of my parents. They declared regularly that Charlotte was the prettiest baby they had ever seen. I had to agree with them, but I may have been slightly biased. Still, her ivory complexion, rosy mouth, and coppery hair were a striking combination. She had inherited both Bella's and my features, and she was beautiful.

Sometimes when I saw Bella with our daughter—sitting in the rocking chair as she hummed softly, reclining upon the couch while Charlotte nursed, or simply walking down the stairs with the baby in her loving arms—I felt overwhelmed, emotions crashing over me. Yet it was a magnificent sensation, one borne of love and joy, and I embraced it.

Occasionally I noticed the tiny crease between Bella's eyebrows which told me that she still harbored some doubts about herself as a mother. Whenever I saw this small, telltale sign, I wrapped her in my arms and kissed her, telling her how much I loved and admired her. There was little else I could do; I knew that eventually she would find her own strength and realize that she was capable of doing whatever our daughter needed.

* * *

><p>One afternoon when Charlotte was just shy of two months old, I returned home from an appointment with Mrs. Joseph. She would deliver within the next few weeks, so I was keeping a close watch on her.<p>

When I entered the house, I could hear Bella upstairs. One inhalation told me that she was changing Charlotte's diaper. My wife spoke sweetly to our daughter, and I smiled at the tenderness in her tone.

Abruptly, Charlotte gave a little cry, and I heard her heartbeat quicken. Bella gasped, murmuring, "Oh no!" and then Charlotte began to wail.

I rushed upstairs. Charlotte's little arms and legs were flailing, and Bella had tears in her eyes. I smelled blood.

"What happened?" I asked, noting that only one side of the diaper was pinned. The other was loose, and Bella gripped the safety pin in her hand.

"I poked her," Bella replied. "She moved suddenly just as I was inserting the pin…" She swallowed a sob. "I hurt my poor, sweet little girl."

"You didn't mean to," I said, squeezing her hand gently. Then I moved aside the diaper to reveal a bead of blood on Charlotte's hip. I reached for a clean diaper and dabbed at the scarlet drop. "It's just a tiny prick," I told Bella.

Charlotte, however, did not seem to agree with my assessment. She continued crying, kicking and wriggling as her little cheeks turned red. Bella lifted the baby into her arms, kissing her and cuddling her. Finally our daughter's cries ceased, and she stilled. I rested my hand against her warm cheek, feeling only a vague, tiny twinge at my hip.

"She's all right," I said, tickling her chin and eliciting a little smile.

Bella continued to hold and caress her while I swabbed the minute wound with mild carbolic solution. Then I fastened the diaper, mindful of the small sore spot. As I closed the safety pin, something occurred to me.

"Bella," I said, looking up, "did the blood bother you?"

"Hmm?" It took her a moment to process my question. "The blood… no, I didn't even notice it."

"There wasn't much," I said, "but usually you're very sensitive to even a little." I glanced at her palm. She did not realize that there was a little streak of red across it.

Her gaze followed mine, and she lifted her hand. "Oh. I had no idea that was there." She studied it for a moment, inhaling tentatively. "I can barely smell it, and it's not bothering me at all."

"I wonder," I began.

My tone had piqued her curiosity. "What?"

"I wonder if perhaps Charlotte's blood doesn't smell as strongly to you as your own or others."

Her brow furrowed. "Does it smell different to you?"

"No, not at all."

"I don't know what to think, but it's definitely not affecting me."

I smiled softly. "Perhaps it simply doesn't."

I hoped we would not have occasion to test this theory further for a very long time, but for the moment it eased both of our minds.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued... However, the story is drawing to a close. I anticipate two or three more chapters. I have a couple of outtakes that I'll post once the story is complete. <em>


	81. Chapter 81

A few days later, I returned from another visit with Clara Joseph. I had some lingering concerns about her so had decided to go into town to check on her. Bella greeted me at our door, Charlotte in her arms.

"Ah, my two favorite girls," I said with a grin. "I can't decide which of you is prettier."

Bella laughed. "Definitely Charlotte. I was just about to put her down for a nap."

"Let me do that," I replied, taking the baby from her.

Bella gave me a smile. She watched for a few moments as I headed for the stairs, murmuring softly to Charlotte while I walked at a leisurely pace. I checked her diaper then set her in her crib, placing a blanket over her. Her tiny mouth opened in a yawn.

"Sleep well, little one," I said with a light chuckle.

When I returned downstairs, Bella was in the kitchen, standing at the sink. I slid my arms around her, kissing the soft, warm spot just above her collar. A few silky tendrils of hair had come loose from her bun, tickling my nose in the most enjoyable way.

She turned so that she could wrap her arms around my waist, lifting her face to kiss my lips. I returned the kiss, savoring her sumptuous fragrance and taste. When I finally drew back, we both sighed softly at the parting.

She required a moment to find her voice. Finally she asked, "How is Clara doing?"

"She's tired and achy, and she's still slightly anaemic. I've instructed her to rest as much as possible to build up her strength."

Bella's expression reflected her worry. "Do you think she'll have any problems with the birth?"

"I hope not. She'll be in very good hands." Carlisle would attend her during the delivery. I planned to assist as much as possible, though.

"I know. I'm sure your presence will be a comfort to her." A flicker of sadness passed over her. I knew she regretted that she could not help me as she used to.

"Darling, she couldn't ask for a better physician than Carlisle."

"Of course… But she's very fond of you. She trusts you. And you were so wonderful when you delivered Charlotte. You remained calm and kept me calm, too." Her voice was wistful.

I cupped her cheek softly, telling her without words how much I appreciated the sentiment.

She gave me a poignant smile. "I'm making chicken stew tonight. I'll prepare a big batch and take some over to the Josephs tomorrow."

"I'm sure they'll appreciate it."

"It's the least I can do."

* * *

><p>I drove Bella and Charlotte into Madras the next day. Bella had only been to town a few times since our daughter was born, but now that the baby was a bit older she felt more comfortable taking her on short excursions. I knew the idea of helping the Josephs made her happy; her nature was a giving one, and she had boundless compassion.<p>

The Josephs were glad to see us. Clara was resting when we arrived, so Bella went into the bedroom to see her, taking Charlotte along. I asked the minister how his wife was feeling.

"She's still awfully tired," he reported, anxiousness evident in his tone.

"That's to be expected."

He nodded. "I know, but I worry about her. We never dreamed we would have a baby after so many years. It's a gift… I just pray that they will both be all right."

I placed my hand upon his shoulder. "Carlisle and I will do everything we can to ensure that they are. Clara has always been strong and healthy. I think she'll come through this just fine."

"Honestly? Because Edward, you and I both know that sometimes we tell people that as a kindness."

"Yes, we do. But this time, it's the truth."

Bella came out of the bedroom and went to the kitchen to heat some stew. I took the opportunity to see my patient. She was sitting up against several pillows, holding Charlotte in her arms. It was a lovely sight.

Clara looked up at me. "She is so beautiful."

"Your little daughter or son will be, too," I replied, sitting in the char beside the bed. I touched my daughter's head, a smile spreading over my face.

"I'd like to think so."

I moved my hand to Clara's wrist to feel her pulse. "How are you doing?"

"I'm feeling a little better today. I'm not as tired, and my back doesn't ache quite a much."

"I'm glad to hear it, but you still need to rest as much as possible. And I want you to eat all the stew Bella brings you."

"I don't think that will be too difficult to do," she replied with a little grin. "Her stew is delicious, and I'm hungry. William does his very best for me, but his talents don't lie in the kitchen."

I chuckled. "Nor do mine."

Her expression became more serious. "Thank you for all you've done for me."

"It's been my pleasure. And I'll continue to see that you and this little one receive the finest care." I touched her abdomen softly. "You will be in the best hands possible. Carlisle is the most skilled physician I know. He has delivered hundreds of babies."

I had told her several weeks ago that I wished him to assist with her delivery. I had explained that I did not possess the stamina I once had. I assured her that I would remain at her side and be present when her child was born, however. She had been disappointed and somewhat anxious at the thought of someone else attending her, but she managed to push aside any reservations she harbored in favor of her child's well-being.

"I know," she acknowledged, "and I appreciate that you've arranged everything."

"Thank you for understanding."

Bella entered the room with a tray, and Clara's stomach rumbled in anticipation. I took Charlotte so that Clara could eat. She and Bella chatted pleasantly while I joined the minister in the parlor. We visited until Clara had finished the meal, then Bella and I said our good-byes. Bella promised to return in a day or two with more stew. I knew she enjoyed helping in whatever way she could. Like me, however, she regretted that she could not do more.

* * *

><p>Bella spent much of the next day in the kitchen. She had decided to prepare enough food to last the Josephs several days. Her cooking definitely sparked Clara's appetite, and it would allow the couple to focus their time on preparing for the baby. The Reverend was still working on the nursery, and Clara was busily sewing baby clothes. Parishioners had brought a few items to their home, but there was still much to be done.<p>

The following day I helped Bella to load several pots and baskets into the Cadillac. She would drive to town while I watched Charlotte. Bella felt she would be more helpful to Clara without the baby, although I knew she would miss our daughter during the time she was away.

Bella had been gone less than an hour when the telephone rang. I had just changed Charlotte and was waiting for Esme to arrive. She was still at home, finishing some blankets for the Josephs' baby using the new sewing machine she had recently purchased. I thought she might be the one calling me, as I had expected her some minutes ago.

I was slightly surprised to hear Carlisle's voice when I picked up the receiver. He was at the office but told me that he had been summoned to a farm that lay beyond Charles Swan's property. The farmer's eldest boy had ridden into town, frantic to fetch the doctor to help his father, who had collapsed in the barn. Based on the youth's description, Carlisle thought the farmer had suffered a heart attack.

I had met the family briefly at the services for Mrs. Withers. I recalled Ben telling me that they attended church every Sunday and always placed a few coins in the donation basket, despite their limited means. They were a close family, and the boy had been distraught when he burst through the door to the office. He was very frightened that his father would die and wanted Reverend Joseph to accompany him and Carlisle back to the farm. He had dashed off to the Josephs' house while Carlisle gathered his things.

"I'm not sure how long I'll be," he finished. "Miss Essie has an appointment at 2:00."

"I'll come to the office as soon as Esme gets here," I replied. It was just after noon.

"All right—oh, Tommy is back with William."

"Get going, then," I urged. "I hope all goes as well as possible."

He thanked me, and I hung up. I waited another fifteen minutes before I heard Esme's light footsteps approaching the house. She apologized for her tardiness, explaining that time had gotten away from her while she was sewing. I provided a quick summary of the recent events, and she assured me that she would take good care of Charlotte until Bella returned.

I hurried upstairs to kiss my daughter's brow then drove to town. I had only been at the office a few minutes when the telephone rang. Feeling slightly anxious, I answered it. If someone were hurt, I might face a difficult task…

"Edward?" Bella's sweet voice soothed me immediately, although her tone indicated surprise.

"Yes, love. Carlisle was called to an emergency at the Sorensens' farm."

"I know. Tommy came for William. How long will he be?"

"I'm not sure." I heard a low, muffled moan. "Bella, what's going on?"

"I think Clara is going into labor."

Without hesitation, I said, "I'll be right there."

Hastily I wrote a note to Carlisle and closed up the office. I made a brief stop at the boarding house to tell Miss Essie that I needed to postpone her appointment, then I hurried to the Josephs' home.

Bella admitted me. She was anxious, both for Clara and for me. I gave her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze then looked past her to the kitchen, where Clara sat hunched in a chair. Several used towels hung by the sink, and one remained upon the floor. I inhaled slowly as Bella confirmed what my senses told me.

"Her waters broke a few minutes ago, and she's been having pains for a couple of hours. They started just when Tommy arrived," she informed me softly. "She didn't say anything, though, because she knew the Sorensens needed William. She was afraid he'd want to remain here if he knew."

I nodded, taking her hand as we walked to the kitchen. Clara looked up at me, her hands over her belly.

"Edward," she greeted. She was pale, and a light sheen of perspiration glistened on her brow and cheeks. The baby's heart was beating steadily.

With a smile, I knelt before her, gently pressing my fingers over her wrist. I felt Bella's hand come to rest against my neck just as the tightness in my abdomen began.

"Bella says your pains started a little while ago?" I inquired, needing a precise answer from her.

"Yes. I felt the first strong one when William admitted Tommy. Is there any word on Frederick yet?"

"No," I replied, moving my hand to her belly. "You had some contractions before that?"

"A few, but I thought they were false labor; they weren't very strong or painful."

"What time did you feel the first of those?"

"Early this morning—perhaps around six."

"Oh Clara," Bella said, "I wish you'd told me."

Looking slightly abashed, Clara responded, "I probably should have." She offered my wife a shaky smile. "And I suppose I should have let you call Edward sooner. But the Sorensens really need William right now, and I didn't want him waiting here when the baby probably won't come for quite a while—" A contraction took her breath away, and she gasped.

I kept my hand over her abdomen, feeling the muscles tighten. Bella glanced at the clock and said, "They're coming closer together. They were almost six minutes apart before, but the last one was four minutes ago."

I arched an eyebrow at her. "All right, Clara, let's get you to the bedroom."

I helped her to rise and supported her with my arm around her waist as she walked slowly down the hallway. Bella helped her to undress and put on a loose chemise while I spent a few minutes in the kitchen, preparing the items I might require.

When Bella returned to the kitchen, she told me, "She's changed."

"Thank you. Could you get some towels?"

She went to the linen chest at the end of the hall and gathered a stack of towels, taking them in the bedroom. I joined her, sitting beside Clara to examine her more thoroughly. She reached for Bella's hand, seeking the support and comfort of her friend. Bella glanced at me questioningly. She knew that she could not touch me if she remained where she stood.

I gave her a nod, silently telling her that I was all right, at least for the time being. In between contractions, Clara was not feeling significant pain. Bella kept Clara's hand in hers while I completed my assessment.

"It seems your little one is anxious to meet you and William," I said, trying to keep my tone calm and light. "You're almost fully dilated."

I heard Bella's sharp little intake of breath. However, like me, she wanted to maintain a calm exterior. "Charlotte came fairly quickly, too," she said.

Clara nodded just before another contraction occurred. Bella tried to make her comfortable, adjusting the pillows and tucking a blanket around her, as she said she felt chilled.

I glanced at the small heat stove in the corner of the room. "I'll get some more wood," I said.

Bella followed me out of the bedroom. When we stepped out the back door, she gripped my arm.

"How soon?" she asked succinctly.

"It's hard to say… but I would guess no more than a few hours."

"And if Carlisle isn't back by then?"

"Then I will see her through," I replied.

Her fingers tightened. Her voice was full of determination and love as she said, "And I will see _you_ through."

* * *

><p>I telephoned Esme to tell her that Bella and I would be with Clara for some time. Bella had arranged for Angela to watch Charlotte. We did not know how long we would need to be at the Josephs' home, but our baby would be nearby.<p>

Esme brought Charlotte into town. She had asked if I wanted her to fetch Carlisle, but I knew he would return when he was no longer needed at the farm. I believed that, with Bella's help, I could handle Clara's delivery. I hoped that all would go well, for all of our sakes.

I wished that Mrs. Withers could be at my side. I would have welcomed her practical yet kind manner; she would have kept everyone calm. Bella, however, proved a wonderful substitute. She did all that she could to comfort Clara, speaking softly to her, encouraging her, placing cool clothes over her brow, and holding her hand when she felt particularly frightened or when her pain was severe.

My beloved wife kept me centered, too. With one look, one small smile, she could convey her confidence in me and remind me that I had brought Charlotte into the world successfully. A simple touch of her hand allowed me to perform all of my tasks and attend to Clara without distress, maintaining my focus perfectly.

Bella paled when the bleeding began, but my assurances that it was normal seemed to help her somewhat. She excused herself just once, hurrying out of the room and down the hallway to the lavatory, where I heard her retch. When she returned, her color had improved marginally, and her determination increased tenfold.

* * *

><p>It was just after six o'clock in the evening when Clara gave the final pushes. She was exhausted, hair drenched and skin slick with sweat from her efforts. Bella was sitting behind her, supporting her body as she bore down once more.<p>

"That's it, Clara," Bella encouraged gently. "You can do it." She looked at me, reading our patient's progress in my expression. "You're almost there. Just one more time…"

I gave Bella a nod, signaling that I needed her beside me. She placed several pillows behind Clara's back then moved to stand next to me, sliding her hand up under my shirt so that she could touch my skin. She reached out to for Clara with her free hand, allowing the woman to grip her fiercely.

Bella's gaze remained upon our friend, and I knew that she was breathing very shallowly through her mouth to minimize the metallic scent.

"One last push, Clara," I instructed gently.

She took a shuddering breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and, with a groan she pushed through the contraction. I eased the baby from her body, holding the tiny infant securely yet tenderly in my hands. For a moment I was awestruck. I had helped to bring a new life into the world.

"You have a son," I told Clara.

"Oh…" she exhaled. Her eyelids fluttered, but then she took a steadier breath and beamed up at me as I lifted her baby boy.

He began to cry, and I smiled at his steady little heartbeat and strong lungs. After wiping him lightly with a towel, I placed him on her stomach then severed the umbilical cord.

As I prepared to deliver the afterbirth, I began to pass him to Bella, pausing to ask softly, "Can you clean him?"

The scent of blood was heavy in the air now, and she was growing quite pale again. But she reached for the baby, and the moment she touched him she gave me a nod. "Of course."

My pride in my wife's fortitude, as well as my gratitude to her, were immeasurable.

* * *

><p>An hour later, we stood watching Clara sleep. The baby lay nestled at her side. Bella had helped her to change into a fresh nightdress, and once I had removed the bedclothes, she replaced them with clean linens. As I held my wife in my arms, I marveled once again at the efficiency and efficacy we had found working together.<p>

"Thank you, love," I murmured, kissing her cheek.

She leaned into me, caressing my hand. Neither of us spoke again for some time, until we heard Carlisle's motorcar approaching.

"They're back," I said quietly.

We walked to the hallway to greet the new father. My grin revealed the joyful news before I said the words.

"Clara?" William asked anxiously.

"She's fine," I replied. "And so is your son."

"My… son?" Momentarily stunned, he wavered. I reached out to steady him, and in an instant I found him embracing me.

Carlisle's eyes moved from me to Bella, and I could tell that he was assessing the scents and sounds within the house, his features strained. After a few seconds, his expression softened.

"Everyone is doing very well," I assured him.

The reverend hugged Bella, then she took his arm and led him to the bedroom. Carlisle placed a hand upon my shoulder, squeezing gently.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here," he said.

"How is Mr. Sorensen?" I asked.

"Weak, but I think he'll pull through. I'll go out and see him again later tonight."

He glanced toward the bedroom, where we heard William's soft, reverent voice as he gazed upon his child.

"Were there any difficulties?" he inquired.

"No. It was a relatively quick delivery. She's exhausted, but everything went fine. Bella was a tremendous help."

"I'm sure she was. Did she have any trouble?"

"It was minimal. Really, I was astonished by how well she did."

"She's a strong woman, Edward, even more so now that she's a mother."

I smiled in agreement, and then we went to see the newest member of the congregation.

* * *

><p>That night, after we put Charlotte to bed, I thanked Bella again for her invaluable assistance.<p>

"I'm so glad I was able to be there," she replied. "I think that, aside from Charlotte's birth and marrying you, that was the most incredible experience of my life."

I nodded in understanding. "No matter how many babies I deliver, I doubt I will ever cease to feel a sense of wonder when a new little child is born."

She took my hand, her gaze upon me intent. "I hope I can help you again."

"You mean with other deliveries?"

"Yes. Charlotte is my priority now, and I know that assisting you on a daily basis isn't feasible, but I'd like to be with you next time you deliver a baby."

"I'd like that, too." I kissed her softly, allowing my lips to linger against her warm skin.

"No one can ever replace Mrs. Withers," she said after a few moments, "but perhaps you and I can carry on for her."

"I think she'd be pleased with that."

Bella nodded and snuggled into my arms. The fire glowed softly in the hearth, but the feeling of warmth that spread through me had little to do with the flames.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued... At this point, my plan is for two more regular chapters and an epilogue. Thank you all for sticking with me! :)<em>


	82. Chapter 82

Charlotte continued to thrive. She was a wonderful baby, too. She was happy and alert, her pretty brown eyes drinking in her surroundings. She adored her grandparents, cooing and waving her arms whenever she saw them. She had become familiar with the Webers, too, and smiled at both Ben and Angela with innocently beguiling charm. She and Rosemary were too little to play together, of course, but they seemed to enjoy looking at each other, and Rosemary would often toddle over to Charlotte to touch her, eliciting giggles from both girls.

Charlotte had found a great admirer in Pearl McMahon. Our young neighbor continued to bring eggs every Saturday. She loved the baby, and when Bella or I set Charlotte in her lap, she would hold her tenderly. My daughter would smile and coo at her. The feeling was clearly mutual.

By March, Pearl's visits were not limited to Saturdays. Weather permitting, she would walk over once or twice during the week. She was such a sweet, unassuming girl that she would use the pretext of wanting to help Bella with laundry or some other chore. My wife would find some small task for our young neighbor then ask her to watch the baby for a little while. Bella was never further away than the next room, but Pearl's expression shown with pleasure and humble pride when given the responsibility of keeping an eye on Charlotte.

Mrs. McMahon was pleased that we welcomed her daughter into our home. She told Bella that Pearl was a happier child now. She had been very somber and serious after her mother's ordeal the previous spring, but her time with Bella and Charlotte seemed to cheer her. She was eating and sleeping better than she had in months. The McMahons expressed their gratitude to us for helping her, yet we were equally grateful to Pearl.

Knowing that Charlotte would not have any siblings, Bella and I were thrilled that she would have Pearl as an honorary big sister.

* * *

><p>The weather had been harsh the last week of March, with wind and sleet. We had not seen Pearl in over a week; the ground was too icy for her to trudge from the farm to our house. However, on the final Sunday of the month the sun appeared, and the air warmed. We thought we might see Pearl soon.<p>

Ben telephoned me that morning, asking if I would mind coming into town. He was having some difficulty with his recently purchased automobile and wondered if I could take a look at it. Bella did not mind my going. I knew she was glad that I had found human friends in our community.

I kissed both my girls then drove into Madras. Ben explained that the vehicle's steering seemed to be off, so we checked the undercarriage and found that one of the axles was slightly bent. I asked for a wrench, and while he was getting it I straightened the bar with my hand. Once he had given me the wrench, I slid underneath the car again and feigned using the tool to fix the problem.

Ben and I took the motorcar out for a short drive to test the repair. He grinned and commented that I could work as a mechanic if I ever got tired of medicine.

I responded with a chuckle, saying, "I suppose in some ways I already am. The human body is just a _slightly_ more complicated machine."

When I returned home, I heard Pearl's sweet, light voice from within. She and Bella were sitting in the kitchen. The soft sound of Charlotte's slow, steady heartbeat upstairs told me that my daughter was sleeping.

"Hello, Pearl," I said, stepping into the kitchen. She and Bella sat at the table drinking hot cocoa. "It's nice to see you again. We've all missed you."

Pearl's cheeks grew pink. "Mama said it was too icy for me to come." She was trying to apologize.

"Oh yes, it was," I agreed. "We always enjoy your visits, but we don't want you to walk over when the weather is bad."

Bella was smiling tenderly. "Pearl is going to help me with some sewing today," she informed me.

"Ah, what a fine idea." I gave Pearl a slightly sheepish grin. "I'm no good at that!"

Pearl's little brow crinkled, then she said, "Is that why Dr. Carlisle sewed my foot?"

I nodded. "He's much better at it than I am."

"Maybe you can practice with us," the little girl suggested, "and if I ever need to have my foot sewed again, you can do it."

Bella and I exchanged a poignant look. "That's a good suggestion," I acknowledged gently. "But today I need to do some work outside. Perhaps next time I'll join you."

I left Pearl and Bella to their needlework, wandering out to the small orchard to do some unnecessary pruning.

* * *

><p>Despite the stretch of pleasant weather, Pearl did not make a mid-week visit. Bella and I did not think much of it; perhaps her mother needed her assistance at home. However, when our small neighbor did not come with her usual egg delivery on Saturday, we both felt slightly worried.<p>

I drove to the McMahons' farm that afternoon to be certain nothing was wrong. Mrs. McMahon greeted me cordially. As soon as I entered the house, I saw Pearl sitting beside the hearth, her little hands moving rather awkwardly as she attempted to use knitting needles. She was paler than usual, and her eyes appeared slightly puffy.

"Bella and I thought Pearl would come by with some eggs today," I said.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Mrs. McMahon replied. "I'll go out and get some for you."

"That's not necessary. I just wanted to be certain that she was all right."

"She's had a bad cold—but she's feeling better today."

Pearl looked up at me and began to smile, but a cough interrupted her. I walked over to her and knelt at her side. When she had caught her breath again, I asked, "How are you doing, sweetheart?"

Her cheeks were flushed now. "My head doesn't hurt anymore," she reported somberly.

"I'm glad to hear that," I responded. I pressed my palm gently over her forehead to check for fever, listening to her lungs as she inhaled and exhaled. She still had some nasal congestion, but her lungs sounded clear, and her temperature was normal.

I gave Mrs. McMahon a nod, and she murmured, "Thank you."

She insisted on sending a basket of eggs home with me. As I was leaving, she asked, "Will we see you at church tomorrow?"

The next day was Easter Sunday. Bella and I did not attend church regularly, but we had decided that we would participate in the Easter services. Carlisle and Esme wanted to go, as well. Bella and Esme had spent a pleasant afternoon recently fashioning Easter bonnets for themselves and making a pretty little dress for Charlotte.

"Yes, you will," I replied, anticipating a cheerful day with my family and friends.

Mrs. McMahon smiled. "We'll look forward to it."

* * *

><p>Easter Sunday dawned with clear skies, but the weather had turned cool again. Fortunately it would be chilly enough that Carlisle, Esme, and I could wear hats, coats, and gloves, and, with a bit of care, we would be able to avoid direct sunlight on our skin. The church had only two narrow windows, and it was easy to sit away from any rays that might enter the building.<p>

Bella put on a lovely, robin's egg blue dress. It made her complexion glow. Charlotte's little gown was lilac, trimmed with pretty embroidery and lace. She had a matching cloth bonnet that set off her coppery curls. My girls looked beautiful.

Carlisle and Esme walked to our house, then we all drove into town together. We wanted to arrive early so that we could choose appropriate seats. Bella carried the baby, and I slipped my arm through hers to escort her into the small building. William was inside, chatting amiably with the handful of parishioners who were already there. Clara sat in the front pew, her infant son in her lap.

My family and I made our way toward the Josephs, offering Easter wishes and greetings.

"Willie looks good," I commented, smiling down at the rosy-cheeked baby.

Clara nodded. "He's doing well. I don't know if I can ever thank you both enough—"

Bella shook her head in fond exasperation. This was not the first time we had received words of gratitude from Clara Joseph. "You already have."

We found seats in a pew well away from any stray sunbeams and sat down as the church began to fill. We waved when the McMahons entered. I was pleased to see that Pearl appeared well-rested. The family sat several pews behind us.

The reverend's sermon was somewhat lengthy, as his holiday sermons tended to be. However, the mood within the church was cheerful, and he was a good speaker, keeping most of his congregation's attention with his gently compelling voice and well thought-out words.

I was rather surprised to notice Bella's eyes half-closed about forty minutes into the service. It was not like her to doze off; she was usually attentive and unfailingly polite. Charlotte stirred slightly, and Bella lifted her head, blinking before looking toward the pulpit. For several minutes she seemed to listen intently, and then her eyelids began to droop again.

I reached for her hand, sliding my fingers through hers. "Are you all right, darling?" I asked quietly.

She glanced over at me and nodded, but the smile she gave me seemed forced. I watched her for the remainder of the service. She seemed to rouse after I spoke to her, her attention shifting between William and Charlotte. As the congregation filed from the church, she conversed lightly with various friends and neighbors.

The Webers had invited us for lunch. Bella helped Angela with the food, while Ben and I kept an eye on our daughters. Rosemary was a year old now, and she was quite mobile. However, she would remain still for minutes on end to watch Charlotte as she lay in her basket. I felt certain that the girls would one day be fast friends.

The meal was more lavish than usual, but I understood that humans tended to prepare special items for holidays. Ben carved the ham, giving me a generous portion, all of which ended up in bits in my pockets.

I did not realize that Bella had taken only small amounts of everything until Angela asked if she wanted more, commenting that she had barely tried several of the dishes.

Bella blushed and replied, "Everything was delicious, Angela. I just didn't have room for all of it."

Thinking back, I realized that Bella had been rather quiet during the meal. I caught her gaze, my brow furrowing in concern. She gave me a smile, and for a little while I thought she was fine.

However, as we drove back to our house, she was uncharacteristically quiet. When I looked over at her, I could see the slight tightness around her eyes that indicated pain.

"Sweetheart," I inquired, "what's the matter?"

"My throat is a little sore," she replied quietly.

This explained her small portions at lunch. "When did it start?"

She gave a small shrug, and I knew that she had been uncomfortable for some time.

I reached for her hand. "You should have told me. We didn't have to go to the Webers'—"

"I wanted to," she said. "Besides, it's not that bad."

As soon as we arrived at the house, I pulled off my gloves and felt her cheeks for fever. She was warm but not dangerously so. I looked at her throat, noting that there was some minor irritation and redness in the larynx. There was no scent of infection, however, and her tonsils appeared healthy. Most likely she was coming down with a cold, probably the same one that Pearl recently had.

* * *

><p>By the following morning, my suspicions were confirmed: Bella had caught a nasty cold. It was worse than the one she had suffered through in the fall. She tried to remain cheerful, but she was miserable all day Monday. Esme did the household chores and helped me with Charlotte so that all Bella needed to do was nurse the baby. Still, she felt terribly that she was not taking care of our daughter.<p>

Bella worried, too, that Charlotte would become ill. I told her that often a nursing baby was the only one in an entire houseful of humans who did not get sick when an illness was running through the family. This allayed her anxiety somewhat but not entirely.

I checked Bella's temperature late Monday afternoon to find that she was running a fever of 100 degrees. She was sneezing and blowing her nose almost constantly, leaving her feeling even more uncomfortable. She was much the same on Tuesday.

Carlisle came over each evening after he closed the office. When he arrived on Tuesday, Bella was nursing Charlotte, Esme keeping her company. I waited in the parlor with him until Esme came downstairs to tell us that Bella was finished. She brought Charlotte with her. The baby was drowsy after her meal.

"How is Bella doing?" Carlisle asked his wife.

"Poor dear," Esme replied, shaking her head. "She's trying not to show it, but she's really not feeling well at all. She's usually so content when she feeds Charlotte, but tonight she's struggling to keep even a bit of cheer."

Carlisle frowned at this news. "How is Charlotte?" he inquired, resting two fingers over her diminutive brow. He knew that the chances of her becoming ill were slim, but, like me, he wished to watch her closely.

"I think she's all right," I said.

He nodded, caressing the small, rosy cheek. Charlotte yawned then closed her little hand around his finger. He could not help but smile.

"She seems fine," he agreed. "I'd like to see Bella, if I might?"

"Of course," I responded. I always welcomed his professional opinion, and I knew that she would enjoy a few minutes with him. If nothing else, his natural benevolence would leave her calm.

He and I walked upstairs together. We could hear the severe irritation in Bella's nasal passages as she inhaled and exhaled. She blew her nose before we entered the room.

"Darling," I said, "Carlisle is here."

She looked up at me, her cheeks flushed and her eyes red. Her expression appeared somewhat troubled. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke. "All right." She managed a small smile.

Carlisle stepped inside. "Good evening, dear," he greeted softly.

"Hi," she rasped.

He moved to her bedside and bent to kiss her cheek. I knew he was assessing her temperature and listening to her breathing at the same time. He perched on the mattress beside her, taking her hands in his.

"Charlotte looks well," he said.

Her features relaxed slightly. "Do you think so?"

He nodded, smiling gently.

"I'm sorry to give Esme so much extra work," she said.

Carlisle chuckled softly. "Goodness, Bella, taking care of Charlotte is her greatest joy. It's not work to her, nor to any of us."

Bella sniffled, her eyes filling with tears. I heard her heartbeat begin to quicken. Her emotions were always more sensitive when she was ill. "But she shouldn't have to take care of my child."

My father leaned forward to cup her cheek in his hand. "Sweetheart, you can't help that you're sick. I know you are extremely capable of caring for Charlotte, no matter what the circumstances. But with Esme so nearby, you don't need to do everything by yourself. You can rest as much as possible so that you get well quickly. You're still feeding Charlotte, and holding her, and showing her how much you love her. That's what is most important."

A tear slid down Bella's cheek. Carlisle reached into his pocket for a handkerchief, patting tenderly at her dampness skin. Unconsciously she leaned into his hand, and in a moment he had pulled her gently into his arms.

I went downstairs to make her a cup of tea, giving her some time with Carlisle. His words were sincere, and I knew he was providing a unique sort of comfort that only a father could offer. I felt infinitely grateful that Bella had him in her life.

* * *

><p>Bella slept quite a bit over the next few days. She continued to run a low-grade fever, which left her feeling tired and achy. I encouraged her to rest as much as possible. With Esme's expert assistance there was little she needed to do.<p>

Charlotte seemed uncomfortable, too. She was fussy, which was unusual for her. For two days, I believed she was getting sick, but she had no fever or other signs of illness. I discovered what the problem was when I brought her to Bella one evening.

As soon as my wife took our daughter into her arms, Charlotte's eyes became bright. When she began nursing, her entire body relaxed. I thought at first her response was simply due to her hunger being sated, but when she finished and Bella placed her on the mattress and lay beside her, Charlotte was more content than I had seen her all week. She simply needed her mother.

Spending time with Charlotte was calming for Bella, too. The hint of malaise that had fallen over her lifted whenever she had the baby with her.

By Friday morning, Bella had begun coughing. I took her temperature as soon as she woke from a fitful night's sleep. Her skin felt warmer to me, but the exertion from coughing might be responsible. She sat rather despondently while we waited for the thermometer to register. As soon as I removed it from her mouth, she spoke hoarsely.

"How much longer do you think until I'm well?" she asked.

I glanced at the thermometer. Her temperature was 100.5 today; her fever was up a bit. "Hopefully only another few days, love," I replied, trying to keep the worry from my voice. Her fever should be going down at this stage of the illness.

She sighed. "I'm tired of this," she said, her voice just above a whisper.

I gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I know, darling. But you'll feel better soon."

Charlotte began to whimper softly; she was hungry. I heard her before Bella did. She usually nursed the baby in the nursery rocking chair first thing in the morning. She began to get out of bed but wavered. I caught her arm and urged her to sit again.

"I'll bring her to you," I said. "You just stay in bed where it's warm and comfortable."

She nodded dejectedly. I hurried to my daughter's room, finding her wide awake. She smiled when I leaned over her crib. I lifted her, cradling her in one arm so that I could press my hand softly against her cheek and neck to feel for fever. She remained well. I wished I could say the same for my precious wife.

* * *

><p>Bella continued coughing as the day wore on. Her fever did not increase, though. There was little I could do for her except to keep her warm and encourage her to eat and drink soothing fluids.<p>

By Sunday morning, she was feeling somewhat better. She had finally managed a good night's sleep, and she woke with a clearer head and no fever. She was eager to return to her usual routines; taking care of Charlotte was her first priority.

Bella's expression was tranquil as she nursed Charlotte in the rocking chair.

"You look happy," I told her.

She smiled up at me. "I am."

Bella busied herself with the baby and with various household activities throughout the day. Esme had kept everything in perfect order, but my wife still found many small tasks to do.

She was tired when dusk fell, but she remained very content. We bathed Charlotte together then settled her in her crib. We stood gazing at our beautiful daughter for some time, then I felt Bella try to suppress a cough. She did not wish to wake the baby.

"You should go to bed, love," I suggested gently.

She nodded, walking to our room with my arm around her waist. After a short bout of coughing, she changed into her nightdress and got into bed. I lay beside her, on top of the covers, holding her and stroking her back until she fell asleep.

Her heart beat steadily beneath my palm, but her breaths were slightly raspy, as she remained congested. She seemed so delicate, almost fragile, in my arms. I moved my hand up to her cheek.

Her temperature was normal, and the rational part of me knew that she was recuperating. However, the emotional part of me—that portion of my heart which existed only because of Bella and Charlotte—worried that her human body could weaken and fail. We had been lucky this time; she would recover. But what if she caught something worse than a cold?

I could not lose my wife. Charlotte could not lose her mother. And Bella could not leave her child. I understood now that I would do whatever was necessary to ensure that Bella never would leave her family.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued... There is one more regular chapter and an epilogue to go. I am so grateful to everyone who has read, reviewed, and put this story on your favorites list. Thank you! I would never have written this much without all of you.<em>


	83. Chapter 83

Bella and Esme were in the parlor, laughing merrily as they unpacked boxes. I carried Charlotte downstairs. She began wriggling in my arms as I reached the final steps. At the bottom, I set her upon her little feet, chuckling as she started toddling toward the sound of her mother's voice.

I took her hand to keep her steady. She already had bruises on both knees from stumbles in the previous days, and she would have another by evening, as she had taken a tumble in the nursery minutes ago. Yet she was undeterred in her determination to use her small legs.

"Da!" she cried, looking up at me.

I smiled and pointed toward the parlor. "Yes, and Mama is in there with Grandma."

"Ma," she repeated happily.

I kept my steps slow as she tottered along. When we reached the doorway, she stopped, her eyes widening at the sight before her.

Her darling mouth formed an 'O' as she gasped, "Oooh."

I grinned and lifted her into my arms again. "That is our Christmas tree, and your mama and grandma are putting pretty decorations on it."

Esme smiled warmly. "Her first Christmas," she said.

Bella came to kiss Charlotte's cheek. I slid my fingers into my wife's thick, silky hair, loving the feel of her warm skin beneath my hand.

"Did I hear her fall upstairs?" Bella asked me. Since Charlotte had not cried, she knew it wasn't serious.

I gave her a nod. "Left knee."

Bella lifted our daughter's skirt to inspect the damage. There was a red mark just below her patella. My wife bent to kiss the little injury.

Charlotte laughed as Bella delivered several more kisses along her shin. Then her attention shifted to one of the ornaments Esme held in her hand. The bauble sparkled in the afternoon light.

"Da!" Charlotte exclaimed delightedly.

Bella chuckled. "Yes, it does look like Daddy's skin, and Grandma's and Grandpa's, too."

"She's such a bright little girl," Esme commented. "And I'm not just saying that because she's my granddaughter."

"No, Esme, you're completely objective," I replied jovially.

"Well, not completely," she conceded with a grin, "but I'm allowed a bit of leeway."

"You certainly are," Bella agreed fondly.

Their easy banter and obvious affection warmed me. Bella's mother had visited several times in the eleven months since Charlotte was born. Her brief stays had not been unpleasant; she was trying hard to show an interest in her daughter and grandchild. Yet at heart she remained self-absorbed, and she possessed little maternal spirit. I was glad that Esme exuded motherly tenderness that was as natural to her as breathing was to Mrs. Dwyer.

We spent a very pleasant afternoon trimming the Christmas tree. Charlotte loved the bright ornaments and the newness of the fir gracing our parlor. Carlisle arrived later in the day to string popcorn and cranberries with me. We enjoyed our task so thoroughly that we worked at a human pace, talking and laughing as we sat in the kitchen with the bowls and string between us.

Bella and Esme devoted the evening to baking, preparing cookies, cakes, savory tarts, and meat pies. Carlisle and I pressed apples and ground coffee, our talents better suited to the beverages we would serve at our party the following day.

* * *

><p>It had been Bella's idea to invite our friends and neighbors to our home for an afternoon of holiday cheer. Her cheeks were rosy with excitement as she and Esme finished the last of the food and began setting out linens. Carlisle and I looked forward to the event, too. To be a part of a community was something neither he nor I had ever imagined was possible, yet here in Madras we had found belonging.<p>

The dining room table was laden with food, while pitchers of cider sat on the sideboard. Bella had coffee percolating in the kitchen and wine mulling on the stove. She had gone upstairs to dress while I lit the candles on the tree and the lanterns we had hung outside. The afternoon was cloudy, and it would be dark before many of our guests departed, so we wanted to have ample illumination. The soft glow brought additional cheer to our home, too.

Bella came downstairs with Charlotte in her arms just as I closed the front door. Looking up, my breath caught at the beauty before me.

My wife's rich burgundy dress complimented her coloring perfectly, leaving her skin and hair glowing. The gown had a V-neck with a cream-colored collar, and a pretty silk flower adorned her bosom. The dress was simple yet elegant. I knew she would not choose any attire that would seem ostentatious.

She had dressed Charlotte in a very pretty gown of the same creamy fabric as her collar and cuffs. Our little girl's collar was burgundy, as were her sash, stockings, and the ribbon in her hair. She was prettier than I had ever seen her. She and Bella were truly a vision as they ascended the stairs.

Bella smiled as she neared me. I kissed her softly yet lingeringly, wanting to press kisses over her entire body. But that would have to wait. Charlotte held out her arms, and I took her, saying, "You both look absolutely lovely."

"Thank you," Bella replied, blushing at the sincerity of my compliment, or perhaps it was due to the flare of desire she saw in my eyes.

Carlisle and Esme were the first to arrive. Carlisle reached for his granddaughter, who happily snuggled into his embrace. Bella and Esme went to complete a few final food preparations, while Carlisle took Charlotte to the parlor to play with her.

I heard a wagon approaching and recognized Paul McMahon's voice. I was glad that our neighbors had decided to come. They had struggled to keep their farm going during the long summer, with poor harvests in the fall. This would be a lean Christmas for them, so I hoped that we could provide a few hours of enjoyment.

Pearl and Jamie climbed down from the wagon and hurried to the house. I greeted them, telling Pearl that Charlotte was in the parlor with Carlisle and sending Jamie to the dining room. He was a growing boy and was undoubtedly hungry.

Paul helped Janie from the wagon, keeping his hand at her back as they climbed the porch steps.

"Welcome," I said, "and merry Christmas."

Paul and I shook hands, then I leaned in to kiss Janie's cheek. She smiled, flushing slightly at the attention.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, my eyes moving down to her hands, which cradled her very round belly.

"Pretty good," she replied.

I rested my hand gently against her abdomen. I could feel the vibration of the baby's heartbeat and hear the steady little thrumming. I had been keeping a close watch on Janie throughout her pregnancy. Thus far she was doing well.

Bella came out of the kitchen to take Paul's hand and embrace Janie. "How are you?" she asked pointedly yet kindly.

Janie nodded. "Fine."

"Just two more months," Bella said with a smile. I knew she anticipated attending the birth with me. She looped her arm through Janie's and continued, "So you and the baby need plenty of good food."

She led her toward the dining room.

"Thanks, Dr. Cullen," Paul began.

"Edward, please," I correctly lightly, not for the first time.

"All right… Then thanks, Edward, for taking such good care of Janie."

"It's my pleasure. Now come and have something to eat. Bella's made enough to feed the entire township twice over!"

Abe and Miss Essie were next to arrive, followed by the Josephs. Willie was a plump, jovial baby, happy to accept Bella's and Esme's kisses. Bella and I were very pleased when the Jenkins drove up. They had been surprised by our invitation, reticent at first to attend a party at our home. However, Bella's warmth seemed to allay any reservations they had, and today they were dressed in their Sunday best, their expressions cheerful and excited. I greeted Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins and the children, then Bella took them to the dining room.

Helen Withers came with her brother-in-law and his family. I was happy to see Helen looking so well. She had spent the summer on the coast, and the sea air had been beneficial for her. She was rested, calm, and healthy.

Our next arrivals were the Webers. I heard their automobile from some distance and smiled. We saw our good friends often and knew our celebration would not be complete without them.

Rosemary ran up the steps and through the door. I scooped her up into my arms. "Hello," I said, kissing her forehead.

She giggled. "'Dward," she said, touching my nose. Then she saw Charlotte in the parlor and squealed in delight. I set her down, chuckling as she dashed off to see her friend.

Ben and I embraced briefly, then I hugged Angela. Bella heard them enter and came to greet them. She and Angela exchanged silent grins. They had been doing that often since Angela had told us that she and Ben were expecting again. Of course I had known before she did, but I had refrained from saying anything.

Angela was just beginning to show. Her baby would be born late in the spring. She and Ben were thrilled, and Bella and I were very happy for them. We knew that Rosemary would be delighted with a baby brother or sister, too.

Soon our home was filled with friends. They ate and chatted, laughter burbling through many conversations. Bella was a gracious, natural hostess, seeing to everyone's needs quietly yet efficiently and making sure that each guest was comfortable and happy.

* * *

><p>As daylight faded, we finally bid our guests good-bye. Many hugs and good wishes were exchanged. Carlisle and Esme were the last to leave after helping us to clean up.<p>

"This was a lovely idea, Bella," Esme said as she hugged my wife.

"Yes," Carlisle concurred, his eyes twinkling merrily. "You brought the Christmas spirit to us two years ago, and now you've spread it to all of Madras.

Bella blushed, deeply touched by my father's compliment.

As he embraced her, he said softly, "Thank you, dear, for everything." His gaze moved to me and then to Charlotte, and I gave a silent nod of agreement.

Bella and I waved as they drove away, then we took Charlotte upstairs. She had enjoyed the attention from both the adults and other children, finding several new playmates. However, as the house quieted down, her excitement gradually waned, leaving her tired and ready for bed. We changed her then tucked her into her crib before kissing her good-night.

Bella's hand was in mine, our fingers intertwined, as we walked downstairs.

"Why don't you sit in the parlor, and I'll get you a drink," I suggested. She had been so busy; she had barely sat down at all during the party.

She nodded gratefully. I went to the kitchen and ladled the last of the mulled wine into a cup. I knew she would enjoy the warmth the beverage would spread through her. I sat beside her on the sofa, placing the cup in her hands.

She took a sip. "Mmm, that's nice. Thank you."

I wrapped my arm around her shoulder. "You were wonderful, darling. Everyone had such a nice time."

"I'm so glad that they all came."

"I am, too."

She finished her drink then rested her head upon my shoulder. We sat for a long time simply watching the fire and enjoying the scent of the tree. Eventually my fingers slid over her shoulders, brushing over her collar bones then trailing down her chest to touch the silk flower on her bodice.

Her cheeks grew pink, and she lifted her face to kiss me. Soon my lips were moving down her throat and over her chest as my fingers worked at the buttons down her back. Her small hands nimbly unfastened the buttons on my shirt, and she pushed aside the fabric. Her warm fingers caressed my skin as her lips pressed over my neck.

I slid the dress over Bella's shoulders then lifted her arms to remove her camisole. For several long moments I gazed at her beautiful breasts, so full and rosy in the firelight. I kissed the pink peaks, a wonderful shiver running through me at her little moan.

I stood and took her hand, then I pulled the dress down over her hips and legs and slid off her bloomers and stockings. She unbuttoned my trousers, grinning as I slipped them off with my drawers. She could see how much I desired her.

We lay on the thick rug before the hearth, kissing and stroking each other, mouths and fingers knowing all the touches that brought pleasure. Finally our bodies joined, both of us gasping in delight at the wonderfully familiar yet infinitely intimate sensation.

We moved slowly, quietly, almost reverently that night. In the last moments, when we were both so close to the final crescendo, I gripped Bella's hands and captured her mouth in mine. Her hips rose, her body pressing as tightly as possible to me, and then she gave a sharp gasp. I felt the pleasure rippling through her, and my own followed. I released her mouth and pressed my lips over the pulse point in her neck, savoring the thrum of her heart and the heady fragrance of her skin.

As we both calmed, I shifted onto my back so that I could hold her against my chest. I kissed her hair and her cheeks as her fingers moved lazily over my arms. Her head rested over my still heart.

"I love you," I said softly.

"Mmm, love you too," she replied sleepily.

"Always," I added.

"And forever," she murmured, a gentle smile upon her lips.

Her breathing slowed, and I knew she had slipped into sleep. My eyes shifted to the waning flames. My mind was drawn back to the second night of our honeymoon, when we had made love before the fire, then Bella had slept in my arms before the hearth the entire night.

That night I had realized that I could love her in every way, giving myself to her completely. I had thought then that my life was finally complete, that I could want for nothing more. I had not known how much she had yet to give me.

I could not keep my gaze away from Bella for long. Still cradling her in my arms, I moved her onto her back carefully, not wishing to disturb her slumber. Then I allowed myself to savor the vision before me.

Bella's body had changed in small ways from carrying and nursing Charlotte. Her hips were a little wider, her belly slightly softer, her breasts fuller. Yet I adored every inch of her and knew she had never looked more beautiful to me than she did at this moment.

With the lightest touch, I trailed my fingertips over her shoulder, down her arm, across her ribcage and hips, then across her thigh. I paused when I felt the small scar above her knee. That cold autumn day seemed another lifetime to me. How was it possible that I had existed without her warm and loving presence?

Now, listening to Charlotte's gentle heartbeat and soft breaths upstairs as Bella lay in my arms, I felt utterly at peace. I realized that someday—at some unknown point in the future—our lives would change irrevocably. But until that time, I would savor each day and allow myself to embrace the joy I felt at this moment.

With Bella, all things were possible. I could practice my beloved profession. I could embrace society and be a friend. But most importantly, I could be an attentive, adoring husband and a devoted father.

"Thank you, love," I whispered, kissing Bella's cheek.

Perhaps she heard my words in her dreams, or perhaps she simply sensed the depth of my emotions. With a softly blissful sigh, Bella snuggled into me.

No matter what our futures held, I knew that I would love her forever.

* * *

><p><span>Note:<span> _A short epilogue will follow soon. I know that many of you may still have questions, and I hope that the final installment will answer them adequately. But Edward's journey is complete; he has broken his solitude in every sense of the word. That seems a fitting place to end his tale... for now. _

_I thank you all for your support and interest in my story. You've been the best and kindest readers any writer could ask for! Happy holidays to all!_


	84. Chapter 84

_**Epilogue**_

* * *

><p>I left Seattle on a drizzly day in January. The drive along highway 101 was a pleasant one, and I had not yet tired of making it. Perhaps one day I would, but the area was still new enough to hold my interest. I enjoyed the sounds and scents of the Olympic National Forest as I headed north. The forest would provide plentiful hunting in a dense environment where my family and I were unlikely to encounter any humans.<p>

My current destination, however, was in the midst of human habitation. Just past the sign for Shelton, I turned left, heading down a small road to the north of town. The property was only a mile or so outside the community, close enough for easy access by residents but far enough that we would have some small measure of privacy. Our house was several miles further, on secluded acreage bordering the forest. Still, the drive from home to office would take no more than ten minutes. I smiled a bit wistfully when I recalled my first office in Madras and the countless times I had driven between it and my home. I had thought the Cadillac quite swift at the time...

I pulled up before the renovated Victorian house, remaining in the car for a few moments while I took in the sight before me. The building looked beautiful—quietly elegant yet welcoming with the subtle pastel touches Esme had chosen. Her knack for design had only grown more keen over the years. She had decorated the interior in warm, soft colors known to be soothing to humans.

I got out of the car and took a few steps forward. I was the first one in the family to see the building in his final state of completion. Finishing touches had been done over the past few days while we were busy packing for the move. I had come today to be certain that all was ready. I knew that the others had wanted to accompany me, but they understood the sense of poignancy with which I viewed a new office. It always brought back memories of my first professional position in Madras. While most of my thoughts were happy, there had been bittersweet, and even tragic, moments as well.

I allowed myself to feel a rush of emotion as I stood there. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, images swirling through my mind. At the center of it all was Bella. There was always Bella. I took a slow, steadying breath then opened my eyes again.

I began to walk toward the building but paused once more to withdraw my phone from my pocket. I snapped several photos then sent them to Carlisle, knowing he would enjoy seeing the completed structure. I glanced up once more and realized I had neglected one important bit. The sign above the front door remained covered.

I darted forward to remove the plastic, then I stepped back again to take another picture. As I lifted the phone, my eyes lingered on the sign, a smile twitching at my lips as I read it over and over again.

_**Cullen Family Clinic**_

_~:~_

_Carlisle Cullen, M.D., Family Practice_

_Edward Cullen, M.D., Pediatrics_

_Esme Cullen, Ph.D., Clinical Psychology_

_Bella Cullen, M.S., Speech/Language Pathology_

_Charlotte C. Evans, MSW, Family Counseling_

This was the first time we had all worked together. Over the years, Carlisle and I had maintained our professional partnership more often than not, varying our specialties slightly as medicine became more complex. As Esme had developed her career, trying several different fields until she found the one to which she was truly suited, she had worked apart from us. She was a superb psychologist, her innate warmth and empathy aiding her professional knowledge. Carlisle and I had long understood that there was a connection between mind and body, and once Esme became established we were eager to share a practice with her.

Indeed, the clinic was a vision that had gradually developed over our many years in practice. We wished to offer a place where families could find the services they needed and where we, as the providers, could work closely together to ensure that all aspects of each patient's needs were met.

I walked up the low stairs to the front door, pulling the key from my pocket. Before slipping it into the lock, however, I ran my fingers over the oval window, feeling each bevel that decorated the thick pane. I suppose a creature with an unnaturally long life is permitted some sentimentality, and my particular version involved keeping physical bits and pieces of my previous lives. The window in our clinic door was from my first house, the one Bella and I had shared for seven years in Madras.

As I stood before the door, my hand upon the cool glass, I recalled all of the times I had looked through this same window to see my beautiful bride, her face shining as she came to greet me. In later years, she held Charlotte in her arms, then by the hand. I could still see the coppery curls bobbing at the bottom of the window when my daughter would dance to the door to welcome me home.

Those were happy days, filled with laughter and affection. Our lives continued blissfully for six years after Charlotte was born. Our friend grew in both number and fondness; Angela and Ben had a little boy and then, two years later, another girl. The McMahons also added two more children to their family, but Pearl's special bond with Charlotte remained, which made our departure from Madras even harder.

Yet it was inevitable that we would have to leave. By 1917 it was becoming obvious that my wife was aging—although subtly—while I was not. She did not appear much older than I was, but I knew that soon she would. Even so, the thought of moving was devastating, particularly when we had formed such close and strong connections, so we put it off just a bit longer.

In the end, there was no debate, although our fate did turn on a single decision. Staying in Madras was not an option after that terrible October in 1918. Carlisle and I were aware of the influenza epidemic as it spread throughout the world. It began in January of that year, waning somewhat before returning with a vengeance some months later, the strain even more virulent. We knew that our community was not immune, but I suppose we hoped we were isolated enough that we might be spared. We were not.

The Spanish influenza was a peculiar illness in that most of its victims were young adults, the majority healthy until affected. We would not know until a century later why this was, although Carlisle and both suspected it had something to do with the way younger patients' immune systems responded. We were correct in this assumption, but that did nothing to prevent the disease from devastating our small community.

We lost several friends and a dozen neighbors. Still, the toll would have been higher if not for Carlisle's and my ability to remain with our patients around the clock, never tiring or losing focus. I doubt any physician other than my father could have saved Pearl, and it is unlikely that Ben would have survived if I had not attended him so vigilantly. Esme was a Godsend, too, providing comfort and care to our patients as their illnesses began to peak and, for those who survived, while they recovered.

I would not permit Bella or Charlotte to leave the house once the disease invaded our community. I thought I could keep them both safe. When I could return home for a precious few minutes to see them, I stood in the garage and scrubbed my body with the harshest soap then changed into clean clothes before entering the house. I took every precaution that I knew of, but it was not enough.

Ben was in the worst stages of his affliction when Bella fell ill. I had not left his side in over twenty hours as his fever raged and he fought to breathe through fluid-filled lungs. I used every professional skill I possessed to see him through. Angela lay in the next room with the children. She had passed the most dangerous point but remained very weak. Rosemary, Benny, and Isabelle had fared better, their bodies fighting the infection with less difficulty. I remember feeling perplexed by this at the time and wishing I knew why. If only I could find a way to help my patients further…

Charlotte wanted to tell me when her mother began showing symptoms. I telephoned my wife and daughter several times each day to be sure they were well, but Bella had forbidden Charlotte from saying anything to me. She understood how desperately I was needed elsewhere, and, in retrospect, I suppose she knew there was little I could do for her in the early stages.

By the time I returned home, she had been ill for nearly twenty-four hours. She had managed to hide it when we spoke on the telephone, but the moment I saw her, I knew.

I did all that I could. Carlisle gave a supreme effort, too. But Bella had always been susceptible to respiratory infections, and this one ran rampant through her delicate body. Everything I had tried with Ben and my other patients failed.

In her final minutes, she gripped my hand, her eyes clearing for a few moments to meet my gaze with ferocious intensity. She gave me a single nod, and I understood what she was asking.

It was the most difficult thing I have ever had to do, but I have never regretted it. Charlotte and I could not lose Bella. Her human life ended on October 21, 1918. Our friends and neighbors believed that she had succumbed to the virus. We left Madras on the pretext of needing a fresh start in a place that was not steeped in grief. To some extent, it was true.

Bella made the transition well. With great effort and unsurprising fortitude, she was able to be with our daughter within a few weeks. For her part, Charlotte adjusted fairly seamlessly. Children are resilient, and my own particularly so, given the unique environment in which she was raised.

Bella and I had always told Charlotte that her future was hers to choose. Eventually we had to make adjustments, her parents pretending to be her siblings, but we managed. She ventured away to college, graduating from Northwestern in 1933. While there, she met Richard Evans. They were married when she was twenty-four. She worked as a teacher for several years, enjoying her profession immensely.

We believed she would want to remain human throughout her natural life, particularly when she and Richard announced that they were having a baby. They had waited a number of years for this event and had nearly lost hope when Charlotte discovered that she was pregnant in November, 1941.

Sadly, it seemed circumstances were against the happy couple. Richard was drafted in January, 1942, and our daughter became a war widow in March. The tragedy was only compounded by the loss of her child. She waited six months to relinquish her human life, but when she asked, Bella and I could not deny her. To some extent, it was the desire to mute the painful memories that spurred her decision. Yet a part of me knew that this decision was inevitable. She sought what she had known for much of her life, and there was comfort in it.

We have all made the best of our situations. Bella's interest in midwifery never waned, but it was not a viable profession for her during the early years. Always intelligent and inquisitive, she decided to complete college, then continued on for several graduate degrees. Eventually she discovered the field of speech and language pathology, something at which she excelled. Her patience and compassion made her particularly effective with young children, and she loved working with them.

Charlotte also continued her education, dabbling in a handful of areas before discovering social work. I suppose it did not surprise me that we all ended up in helping professions. Regardless, it would always be a source of pride for me to watch my wife and daughter as they gently assisted others.

So our lives had come full circle. We were all together again, doing the work that we treasured. I sighed, the sound one of both wistfulness and contentment, then I moved my hand to the door knob.

I felt Bella's arm slip around me just before I stepped inside. I inhaled her fragrance then turned to kiss her.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as I nuzzled her hair.

"I couldn't resist," she replied. "I know you wanted to come alone, but I just had to see your face. I hope you don't mind?"

"Mind?" My grin spread as I pulled her into my arms. "Darling, everything is more wonderful with you. It always has been and always will be."

I kissed her again then took her hand to lead her through the door which opened our dreams.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Note:<span>** _This is a bittersweet moment for me as I finally bring the story to a close. I have loved writing this, and the feedback from all of you has only made it sweeter. I send my sincere gratitude to everyone who has reviewed, and I apologize if I neglected to respond to any of you. Each review was appreciated more than you can know. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined getting 1000-let alone over 2000-reviews! Wow._

_I have an outtake that I wrote for the LLS fundraiser. I'll post it if folks are interested. It's set during the summer before Charlotte is born. I am also considering writing an outtake or two to provide a bit more depth to events mentioned so briefly in the epilogue. Brief as this segment was, I hope that most of your questions were answered, and that you found the final bits satisfying._

_Thank you again for all your support. May 2012 bring you all only happiness!_


	85. Outtake:  July, Part 1

___**Author's**_**_ Note_: **This was written for the fundraiser for The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. This outtake from "Touching Solitude" is in three parts, which I will post as separate chapters. I originally posted the outtake as a new story, but it occurred to me that readers who had "TS" on alert wouldn't be aware of the outtakes, so I've deleted the story and will add all three parts here. Sorry for any confusion!

All three parts are set the July before Charlotte's birth and will show moments from the couple's lives with family, friends, and each other. The M rating is for a lemony scene in the final chapter.

* * *

><p>July was a month of much contentment for Bella and me. Our work proceeded without any serious incidents; we treated only relatively minor injuries and illnesses. Bella felt good, too, with more energy and no nausea. Her presence always calmed our patients, and her gentle cheer made the office a pleasant place for all.<p>

By the middle of July, the air was aromatic with the scents of both blooming flowers and ripening fruit. Wildflowers carpeted the meadows, and the bushes in the nearby woods were heavy with berries. Our little world was filled with natural beauty.

As Bella and I were leaving the office one Friday, Ben waved to us from the store then hurried down the street to speak with us.

"Are you busy this Sunday afternoon?" he asked cheerfully.

Bella and I glanced at each other. We had no specific plans, although I had been anticipating some indoor activities with my wife…

Bella smiled at Ben, replying, "No."

His grin widened. "How about a picnic near Angela's old place? The woods back there are bursting with blackberries, and Ange keeps talking about canning and pies."

I could almost hear him salivating. Actually, I _could_ hear him. I suppressed a chuckle.

Bella's expression, however, became serious. "I'm not sure about the weather," she said rather hesitantly. Her fingers brushed against my hand.

The skies had been cloudy for the last two days, although it remained warm. Based upon the weather patterns I had observed over the past year, I believed the clouds would remain for another several days.

"As long as it's not raining, it should be all right," Ben said.

I nodded. "I think the weather will be fine."

Bella smiled at my words. "Then it sounds wonderful. I haven't had blackberry pie in ages."

"We'll come by your place around noon," Ben responded. "Ange'll make some friend chicken."

"I'll bring biscuits and peach preserves," Bella offered.

"Great. See you then." Ben hurried back to the store.

Bella looked up at me. "Do you really think the weather will be all right?" she asked.

"I do. I think it's going to be a perfect day."

Unfortunately, my prediction failed. On Sunday morning, light cloud cover remained, but shortly before noon the skies cleared, sunshine streaming over the land. Bella stood at the window fretting.

"What should we do?" she asked.

I knew she had been looking forward to the excursion with the Webers. I wanted her to have that. I wrapped my arms around her and said, "You, Angela, and Ben go. I'll say I have to check on a patient and will catch up with you later."

"You don't mind?"

"Not at all, darling. You deserve a day in the sun with our friends."

I kissed her cheek, earning a smile from her. Then she bustled off to the kitchen to finish preparing her portion of the picnic lunch. I enjoyed seeing her so happy, her eyes bright with anticipation.

When Angela, Ben, and Rosemary arrived in their buggy, I opened the door to welcome them. Their expressions, however, were not quite as cheerful as Bella's. Our friends appeared tired.

"Is everything all right?" I inquired with some concern.

Angela held Rosemary over her shoulder, rubbing softly at the baby's back. "She was fussy all night," she replied. "She's got a pretty bad diaper rash."

"Oh… I'm sorry to hear that," I said. "May I?" I held out my arms, and Angela passed Rosemary to me.

The baby's tiny hands fisted in my shirt. I ran my fingers over her head and cheek to check for fever then lifted her little dress and peeked beneath her diaper. Angry, red patches covered her buttocks.

"Have you given her solid foods recently?" I asked.

Angela nodded. "She's been eating a little scrambled egg in the mornings and some cooked carrots and potatoes at dinnertime."

"That may be the cause," I said.

"It looks so painful," Ben commented.

"I'm sure it's uncomfortable," I agreed. "An oatmeal bath with some chamomile tea added will soothe her. Aside from that, be sure she's kept as dry as possible."

Bella had joined us. She looked slightly worried.

"Maybe we should take her home," Angela said, her tone apologetic.

I hated to see our friends and my wife disappointed. Fortunately I had an ideal solution in mind. With a small grin I said, "There's no need for that. I can stay here with Rosemary while you go and enjoy your picnic and berries."

"Oh Edward, we couldn't ask you to do that," Angela replied.

"You haven't asked; I've offered," I retorted gently.

"You two should go," Ben said to our wives. "You haven't had an afternoon to yourselves in ages. I'll stay here with Edward and our Posey."

Angela appeared quite tempted by this offer. Bella smiled at her friend, saying, "It sounds like a good idea. We don't have to stay out very long."

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Angela asked me.

"It would be my pleasure. Besides, I need the practice." I ticked Rosemary's cheek, eliciting a burble from her.

"Go," Ben urged, "and have fun. We'll be fine."

Our wives were quite happy with this arrangement. Angela took the baby into the parlor to feed her while Bella finished with the picnic basket. They decided to enjoy the fine weather by walking to the woods. The distance was about a mile, and both looked forward to a pleasant stroll.

Ben held the baby against his chest as we stood on the porch, waving as the women walked away arm in arm, chatting merrily.

I prepared a medicinal bath for Rosemary in the kitchen sink. When the water was the proper temperature, Ben set her in the temporary tub. After a few minutes, the oatmeal and chamomile began to ease the baby's discomfort. By the time he removed her from the water, she was sleepy. He placed a clean diaper and gown on her, then he settled her in her basket on the parlor floor.

Ben and I conversed amiably for some time before a rumble of thunder drew our attention to the darkening skies. I hurried to the window to see heavy clouds rolling in. A storm was building quickly.

"Damn, the girls are going to get soaked," he said. "I should go and get them."

While I knew the general direction in which they had gone, I was unsure of their precise location.

"Do you know where they are?" I inquired.

It would not be difficult for me to find them using my enhanced senses, but I hesitated to do something that might raise questions in Ben's mind. Still, if he was unsure of their whereabouts, I would gladly take the small risk to ensure their safety and comfort.

He nodded. "Ange and I have gone there at least a dozen times. There's one particular area where the berries are thickest, hidden back behind some other bushes. She swears they're the sweetest ones around."

We both studied Rosemary for a few moments. She was sleeping soundly. She would surely wake if we took her outside, particularly amid thunder claps and flashes of lightning.

"Do you mind watching her for a little while?" Ben asked. "It shouldn't take me long to get them."

"No, it's fine," I replied. "Do you want to take the motorcar?"

Ben hesitated for a moment, undoubtedly recalling the last time I had made such an offer. While I did not blame him for Bella's attack in Bend, I knew he still harbored some guilt.

"I'll just take the buggy," he decided. "Wouldn't want to risk a flat tire if I have to go off the road."

A bright flash of lightning woke Rosemary only a few minutes after Ben left. She gave a little cry, blinking at her surroundings. I knelt by her basket and placed my hand gently over her head.

"It's all right," I said softly. "You're safe."

I hoped the same could be said for Bella and Angela. Rain had not yet begun to fall, but the thunder claps were becoming more frequent, and the air was growing heavier. Perhaps Rosemary sensed my anxiety, or maybe she felt anxious herself in the absence of her parents. Whatever the cause, she began to cry.

I lifted her into my arms, holding her carefully yet securely. Her little heart was thumping, and her eyes had quickly filled with tears. Sobs shook her small frame.

"Sshh," I whispered, running my hand up and down her back. "You're all right, sweetheart."

My words, however, did not calm her. She continued to cry. Her little cheeks were red now, and she wriggled in my arms. Perhaps she was uncomfortable? I shifted her, cradling her against my chest. Within a few moments I found myself rocking her gently back and forth.

Her sobs quieted but did not cease. Her tiny fingers were curled, one clutching at my sleeve. I had not bothered to breathe in some time, but now I inhaled in preparation for speaking again. I smelled the slightly acrid odor of urine. Immediately I realized part of the problem.

"Do you need a fresh diaper?" I asked, my voice light.

I walked to the kitchen, where Ben had left the cloth bag with extra diapers. I grabbed the bag and moved swiftly yet smoothly upstairs to the bathroom. After placing several towels on the floor, I set Rosemary upon them. Her legs kicked anxiously, her sobbing unabated.

"Just give me a moment, little one," I said, removing her soggy diaper in an instant.

I bathed her tender skin gently with warm water then dried it thoroughly before taking a fresh diaper from the bag. Suddenly I realized that I did not know how to place the cloth around her.

I held it up, examining it for any clues, but it was merely a square. I could see tiny holes where pins had once been inserted, but the location of these was of little help. I took a moment to recall my motions as I took off the wet diaper. I remembered the folds I had undone, feeling I could replicate these in reverse now.

I lifted Rosemary and placed the cloth square beneath her bottom then folded it inward to fit between her legs. It appeared rather bulky, so I tried again until it was smoother. The sides were slightly more challenging, and even with my perfect memory I had trouble getting the folds just right.

Rosemary's crying had stopped once she was dry, and now she watched me with interest. Her blue eyes were wide, and as I bent over her, one little hand reached up to grip at my hair. She giggled.

I lifted my eyes to her face, smiling at her obvious amusement. She tugged a bit, laughing harder. I chuckled. The motion caused me no pain, and she seemed to find it funny.

As I finally inserted the last pin, she released my hair, kicking her little legs happily. I studied the small feet for a moment. Her toes were tiny and pink, and they were irresistible. I captured her foot gently in my hand and kissed the soft sole. This earned a delighted little squeal from her.

I kissed her other foot, and she made another small, happy noise. I found myself laughing, too, as I tickled her feet and tummy tenderly. I did not realize that I was speaking to her until she touched my mouth. What had I been saying? The words had been rather nonsensical, but she seemed to find them pleasing.

"All right, little pumpkin," I said, lifting her, "let's get back downstairs. Your mama and daddy and Auntie Bella should be here very soon."

She wrapped her tiny arms around my neck as I began to walk down the stairs. Light rain was falling now, but the thunder and lightning had diminished. I stood at the window with Rosemary, watching and listening, eager for the small group to return.

Soon I heard the horse's hooves, and the buggy came into view.

"Here they are," I told Rosemary, taking her diminutive hand and helping her to wave through the glass.

As soon as Ben pulled the buggy up to the porch, I opened the door. He hopped down, helping Angela out. She hurried toward me.

"Thank you, Edward," she said, reaching for the baby.

I smiled, giving Rosemary a final caress as I handed her to her mother. "I enjoyed watching her."

Bella was climbing down from the buggy with Ben's assistance. Her hair was damp, tendrils clinging to her cheeks and shoulders. Angela appeared rather soggy, too, but neither woman was drenched.

Bella looked up at me as her feet touched the ground. She was smiling, and she slipped her arms around me as soon as I reached her.

"I love you," she whispered against my chest.

"I love you, too," I replied. I kept my arm around her was we hurried inside to get away from the drizzle.

It was not until she had dried her face and arms with a towel that I noticed the scratches on her hands. There were three on her left hand and four on her right. They were ragged but not terribly deep.

"Darling, what happened?" I asked, taking her hands in mine.

"You've never gone berry picking, have you?" she asked with a little grin.

"Not that I recall…"

She chuckled. "The bushes have a lot of thorns."

"Sweetheart, you should have told me. I'd have gathered the berries for you—"

"You couldn't go on this excursion," she reminded me.

"Even so—"

"Edward, it's just part of the task," she said. She did not seem upset. "Besides, it's wroth it."

"Do they hurt very much?"

"They sting a little."

Two of the scratches had some minor swelling around them. "Let's get these cleaned. Does Angela have any?"

"A couple. I seemed to have found the thorniest bushes, though."

I helped Bella to wash her hands at the sink, then I applied a mild antiseptic to the scratches. Angela and Ben were in the parlor with the baby, so I took my supplies to them to treat Angela's scratches, too.

The rain had slackened, clouds beginning to clear, but we could see more building in the distance.

"I guess we should go before the next round hits," Ben said, beginning to gather their things.

Angela thanked me again for watching Rosemary, then she and Bella hugged, sharing a confidential smile before the little family departed. I had a feeling their grins had something to do with me, but I would let the girls keep their friendly secrets. We bid the Webers farewell and watched as they drove away.

A large basket of blackberries sat on the entryway table. Bella's stomach rumbled as she passed them.

"Didn't you and Angela eat?" I asked.

"Not much. We were anxious to pick berries before the rain began."

"Hmm. Well, we can't have you hungry."

"Berries make a fine snack," she replied.

I took the basket to the kitchen and rinsed a handful of the dark, ripe fruit. Bella reached for a berry in my hand.

"Oh no you don't," I remonstrated lightly, "you need to rest those hands." I gave her a wink, then gestured toward a chair, where she sat obediently.

I knelt before her and slid a plump berry between her lips. She chewed slowly, her eyes closing for a moment. "Mmm."

I fed her another blackberry. This time she licked a bit of juice from my finger. Now it was my turn to make a small noise of pleasure.

Bella grinned at me, lifting one hand to touch the scratches lightly. "See, I told you it was worth it."

"Oh yes," I agreed, and then I fed her many more succulent blackberries.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued in July Part 2...<em>


	86. Outtake 2:  July, Part 2

The third weekend in July brought a visit from Carlisle and Esme. Both Bella and I were excited to see our parents. Esme's cheery affection was always welcome, and Carlisle's calm, caring presence seemed to ease any small, lingering worries Bella and I had about her condition. She was still feeling quite good, but I had recently noticed that she grew fatigued more easily than she had in the past weeks. I had kept a closer eye on her. However, I perceived no evidence of any specific difficulties.

On the morning of Carlisle's and Esme's visit, Bella was quite energetic. She brought in flowers from the garden and prepared several fresh bouquets, then she made sure everything within the house was tidy.

Just before ten o'clock, I heard the purr of an engine. "They're here!" I announced.

Bella smoothed her hair in the hallway mirror then joined me on the porch. We waved as the motorcar approached. Carlisle and Esme leaped from the vehicle and were before us in an instant, giving in to their excitement and using their inherent grace and speed.

Esme immediately enveloped Bella in a tender hug, while Carlisle embraced me warmly.

"You look wonderful," Esme told her daughter-in-law.

Bella smiled. "Thank you."

Carlisle pulled Bella into his arms next, while Esme hugged me.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" Carlisle asked Bella, his tone more paternal than professional.

"Pretty good," she replied. "I'm outgrowing all of my clothes, though." A blush spread over her cheeks as she placed her hands over her abdomen.

Esme chuckled. "I suspected as much." She darted to the motorcar, returning in a second with a valise. "I've brought something for you."

"Oh Esme, you shouldn't have," Bella began.

"You don't even know what it is!" Esme responded with a fond grin.

"No, but I know that you're always spoiling me," Bella said, smiling appreciatively.

"Well, this is something entirely practical," Esme assured her with a little wink at me. "Let's go inside, and I'll show you."

She looped her arm through Bella's, leading her into the house. I waited until I knew Bella was out of earshot, then I said to Carlisle, "She's been tired lately—more so than before."

He nodded. "That's to be expected, son."

"To a certain extent, yes…"

"But you're worried anyway." He squeezed my shoulder comfortingly. "If a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, a great deal of knowledge can be positively catastrophic."

He understood that my training and studies provided a constant mental barrage of dire possibilities. He waited a few moments before speaking again.

"Aside from the fatigue, does she have any other symptoms?"

I shook my head. "None that are obvious."

"The baby's heartbeat is strong," he confirmed, "and hers sounds healthy. I didn't smell any indications of blood sugar abnormalities. She doesn't smell anemic, either."

"So you don't think there's anything wrong?"

"Honestly, no."

I nodded. "Thank you."

We got the rest of the things from the motorcar and joined our wives inside. Esme was unpacking the valise, holding up a blue blouse for Bella's inspection.

"Now," my mother said, "I've already done a bit of alteration, but I want you to try these on, and I'll be sure everything is tailored just right."

Bella was clearly touched by Esme's gift. Overcome with emotion, I heard her swallow. "Thank you," she said rather thickly.

"Oh honey," Esme said, surprised by Bella's reaction, "it's nothing. It's just what a mother does."

Now Bella's eyes filled with tears. I knew that Esme's maternal gestures meant a great deal to Bella, particularly given her own mother's lack of interest in our child. A sob escaped her, and Esme wrapped my wife in her arms.

"Sshh, sweetie, it's all right," she soothed tenderly.

"I'm… I'm sorry," Bella stammered breathily.

"Oh goodness, here, sit down," Esme said, her tone reflecting concern.

Carlisle and I stepped into the room, and I helped Bella to the sofa. She sank down, her cheeks wet, still breathing heavily. She was trying to suppress her sobs.

I perched beside her, taking her hand and rubbing my thumb over her wrist. She rested her head upon my shoulder. Esme stroked her hair softly, and in a minute or so she calmed.

"I'm sorry," Bella said again. "It's just… you're so kind to me."

"It's nothing less than you deserve," Carlisle said. He lifted her chin gently then bent to kiss her forehead.

She looked up at him, her eyes now shining with affection. It was a lovely moment, one I would hold dear for the rest of my existence.

Finally, Esme said, "Would you like to try these on now, or wait until later?"

"I think I'd like to do it now," Bella replied, her cheeks pinkening. "I really do need some better-fitting clothes."

Esme smiled. "Wonderful!"

Carlisle and I watched as they ascended the stairs, Esme's arm around Bella's waist.

I sighed. "I'm so glad Bella has you and Esme in her life."

"We feel grateful for her, too," he replied. "She's brought us nearly as much joy as she has brought you." He paused and lowered his voice. "She's given Esme a new purpose, you know."

While Esme adored her husband and was happy in her new life, I knew he worried that he could not fulfill her completely. I understood and acknowledged him with a hand at his back.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he said after a few moments. "We bought some grapes from a fruit stand; they're still in the back of the motorcar. Esme won't be pleased if they turn to wine." He grinned.

"I'll put your things upstairs," I said as he excused himself.

I picked up the single case he and Esme had packed. They required few items, but each brought a change of clothes, and she needed a brush and hairpins. I walked up the stairs, smiling at the pleasant tones of Esme's and Bella's conversation.

When I reached the landing and glanced into our room, I stopped. Bella stood in only her bloomers and camisole; the latter was tight over her belly. I could not help myself from looking at her.

"I think this will be more comfortable," Esme said, handing her another camisole.

Bella turned slightly out of modesty, then removed the undergarment. She slipped the new one over her head, pulling it down as she turned back to Esme.

"Oh!" my mother cried softly at the sight of Bella's rounded abdomen. "May I?" she asked, her hand hovering.

Bella smiled and gave a nod. Esme rested her palm over my wife's bare belly, her expression reverent. She had a distant look in her eyes. For several seconds she remained perfectly still, then she began to blink, her body's natural response even though she could not produce tears. Her lower lip trembled.

"Esme?" Bella questioned, sensing her emotion. She placed her hand over Esme's.

Esme lifted both hands to press over her mouth, taking a step back. She was blinking harder now.

"I'm sorry," Bella said quietly. "I didn't mean to upset you. I should have been more discreet…"

"Oh, no honey," Esme said, gathering some of her composure back. "It's not your fault."

"It was insensitive of me. I should have thought first. I know you had a baby once…" Bella lowered her eyes, and I could tell that she regretted her final words. Esme had never brought up the subject in her presence before. She spoke of it very rarely even with Carlisle.

Esme stepped forward and carefully lowered the camisole, smoothing it over Bella's hips. Then she took her hand and led her to the bed, where they both sat down. Bella was flushed, obviously embarrassed and upset with herself. I had to resist the urge to go to her. But it was not my place; Esme was the only one who could assuage her discomfiture.

Esme had not released Bella's hand, but her grasp was very gentle. Without looking up, she said softly, "It was a little boy."

Bella's fingers curled around Esme's palm. "Yes?"

"He was beautiful. He had light brown hair, and it was wavy; I could never keep it combed down." She lifted her head, a poignant smile upon her lips. "His cheeks were so chubby and rosy, and he would laugh whenever I touched his little nose or tickled his chin."

Bella was smiling gently, too. "He sounds precious."

"Oh yes, he was. His name was Charles—Charlie was what I called him."

"Just like my father," Bella said softly.

"Yes." She lifted her hand to rest it against Bella's cheek. "I wish I'd met him."

"And I wish I'd met your Charlie."

"I don't remember many things from my life before Carlisle, but I could never forget my baby boy." Her gaze moved to the window, and she inhaled slowly. "He got sick, very sick. I suppose at the time I knew with what, but that's something I lost… I just remember him crying and struggling to breathe… and then he was gone."

She was still looking out the window, but I knew her sight had turned inward. Bella had taken her hand again. Tears now stained my wife's cheeks.

Esme continued, her voice distant. "I don't remember much from that time, either, and that's probably for the best. I just recall feeling wrong, as though a part of me had been lost, as if there were something missing. My life with Carlisle has been wonderful; his love has brought me more joy than I could ever have imagined. And Edward's friendship and affection have warmed me, have made me feel nearly whole again. But there was something missing, a tiny part of my being that was incomplete."

She turned to look at Bella, her gaze now intent. She wiped a tear from Bella's chin then spoke again.

"You've allowed me the great honor of treating you as a daughter. You've let me become a mother again, and you've made our family complete."

Bella leaned forward to embrace her. "I feel the same way," she whispered, her throat almost too tight to speak.

"Oh sweetheart," Esme breathed, "thank you."

I took several silent steps down the hallway, suddenly feeling terrible at the thought of intruding upon this private moment between my wife and mother. I placed the bag upon the bed in the guest room then stealthily crept down the stairs.

Esme's and Bella's conversation had grown lighter, both chatting amiably about the clothing and the baby. But beneath their words I could hear a new warmth, a deeper sense of love, and I knew that they were truly mother and daughter now.

* * *

><p><em>Note: There is one more outtake chapter to go. :)<em>


	87. OUttake:  July, Part 3

_Note: _ This is the last of the outtakes that I wrote for the LLS fundraiser. This scene contains lemons... Once again, I send my sincere gratitude to everyone who has taken the time to leave feedback. You are all wonderful!

* * *

><p>The final weekend of July was particularly agreeable for us. Bella felt more energetic again as her body adjusted to the demands of our growing child. When the weather was pleasant, she enjoyed tending the flowers in our garden. They were in full bloom, and fresh bouquets graced our dining room, parlor, and bedroom daily. The house felt bright and cheerful, reflecting our shared mood. Truly, I had never felt more content or more excited about the future than I did during those warm weeks in the middle of the summer.<p>

One afternoon, I stood on the porch watching Bella as she knelt before an azalea bush, admiring the new, gentle curves of her body and the rosy glow of her soft skin. She was breathtaking, and both affection and longing surged through me at the sight of her. I wanted to touch her, to hold her in my arms and feel the silkiness of her bare skin pressed against my body. When I could remain still no longer, I joined her in the garden, stroking her fragrant hair, kissing the warm flesh at the back of her neck, and whispering my adoration as my lips moved over the delicate shell of her ear.

A little shiver of delight ran through her. She turned to face me, wrapping her arms around my waist. Bella lifted her chin, and I kissed her beautiful mouth. Her lips opened; our kiss deepened. My hand slid through her hair, loosening the little pins that held the strands twisted upon her head. Her scent mixed with the perfume of the flowers, nearly intoxicating me.

I inhaled deeply, all of my senses caressed by Bella's body so close to mine. One of her small hands slipped inside my collar, warm fingers brushing over my neck.

"Let's go inside," I murmured.

She nodded, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed. Beside her sat a basket of flowers. She had cut a dozen pale pink and yellow roses. I reached for the basket with an inscrutable grin, then took her hand to lead her into the house.

Once inside, I lifted her into my arms and swiftly carried her upstairs to set her upon the bed. She smiled up at me, reaching for the buttons on my shirt. I let her slender fingers work them open and enjoyed the feel of her hands as she slid the garment over my arms. It fell to the floor.

Sunlight filled the bedroom, leaving my skin glistening. Bella ran her fingers over my shoulders and arms. "Gorgeous," she murmured, then she pressed her hand over the center of my chest, and I knew she spoke of both my body and heart. I had never loved her more.

I removed her blouse with slightly more haste than she had used, pausing for a moment to admire the little peaks of her nipples nudging at her camisole. I ran my fingers over them, drawing a small moan from her. I peppered her neck and chest with soft kisses then pulled off the rest of the clothing.

When she touched my belt, I complied with her unspoken request and took off my trousers. She smiled, running her knuckles over the prominent bulge barely contained by my drawers. I shuddered at the delightful contact, but I had something else in mind.

"Lie back, love," I instructed, quickly slipping off her bloomers. "Mmm," I sighed, admiring the lovely, soft curves of her body for several long seconds. "Close your eyes," I murmured, kissing each eyelid as it lowered.

Then I darted from the room, returning seconds later with the basket of roses. Bella lay before me, one arm over her head, fingers lightly tangled in her hair. The other hand rested upon her hip, fingertips just touching the small swell of her belly. Her legs were slightly parted, giving me a delicious glimpse of the pink flesh at her center. I drew a deep breath, savoring the perfume of her arousal.

My hands moved quickly, and the soft fragrance of roses wafted over the bed. Bella inhaled, smiling. Her eyelids fluttered with curiosity.

I kissed them again. "Not yet, darling," I admonished tenderly.

When the cool petals began to rain softly over her skin, she gave a little gasp of surprise. I scattered them in the hollow of her throat, between her breasts, over her beautiful belly and the little valleys beneath her hipbones. Then I took a petal between thumb and forefinger and ran it very gently over her lips.

"Oh!" she murmured. Her eyelashes quivered.

I brushed the petal over each eyelid then beneath her eyes and down her nose. "So sweet," she whispered as the fragrance intensified slightly.

"Yes," I agreed, my gaze moving slowly over her body again.

A pale yellow rose petal lay upon her shoulder. I ran its velvet edge across the pulse point in her throat. Bella exhaled a sigh of pleasure. I rubbed the petal between my fingers to release all of its aroma, and she breathed in the pretty scent.

Three pink petals lay upon her left breast. I grasped one and traced the outer rim of her areola with it. A tiny shiver of delight caused gooseflesh to rise over her body as her nipples responded to my lightest touch. I flicked the petal softly over Bella's precious little bud then bent to kiss the other, unable to stop myself from tasting her if only for a moment.

She wriggled slightly, her legs opening further. I brushed a fresh petal over her right nipple then moved it down over her belly, letting it whisper over her navel. I bent my head again to press my lips with soft reverence and absolute adoration over her womb.

Bella opened her eyes, her gaze meeting mine. A tender smile spread over her lips, then she said, "Oh!" when she saw the rose petals adorning her gorgeous, ripe body.

"You, my love," I said huskily, "are the most beautiful blossom of all." My fingers moved with feathery touches over her hips, finding the wonderful warmth I sought nestled between her thighs.

I stroked her folds, finding her far softer and silkier than the rose petals. Her body responded eagerly to my touches, and when I delivered gentle yet purposeful kisses to her most treasured flesh, she shuddered with deep pleasure.

After she caught her breath, her body still flushed from her release, she tugged at my drawers, and I removed them gladly. When I pressed myself slowly into her, my stomach brushing over hers, the petals upon her hips released their fragrance. Their softness tickled my sensitive skin in an interesting way. But it was my wife's perfect touch I wanted, and when her fingers moved over my hips then inward, tracing over my cleft, I captured her mouth in an ardent kiss.

Bodies and hearts joined, we moved softly yet intently until we had both tumbled over the precipice, reaching our crescendos with gentle cries of joy and words of love.

As we lay together afterward, I brushed a few remaining rose petals from Bella's skin. She smiled at the gesture. I reached for the single rose that I had left in the basket, laying it between her breasts.

"It's beautiful, Edward," she said, touching a pink petal.

"It is nothing compared to you.," I replied. I kissed her again, savoring her scent, so much sweeter than the most fragrant flower.

The month had brought us many treasures: the love of family and the affection of friends. But the adoration we shared was the greatest bounty of all.


End file.
